On the Way There
by CoolChica87
Summary: Arya is determined to have justice, secure her family's legacy, and make it home to Winterfell. First she must defeat her enemies and form new alliances, including an arranged marriage with a likable Baratheon smith, whom she may yet come to love, if the violence surrounding her doesn't ruin it first.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Set in the future where Arya and Gendry have never met. Daenarys takes King's Landing and is intent to have peace. Stannis, still leading an impressive force, agrees to a compromise to put the war to an end. A union between the legitimized Baratheon and the last Stark is the last resort. But is peace even possible after all the horrors of the war? Can two people forcibly bound fall in love. Is it ever really possible to go home again?

An Inconvenient Proposal

Gendry

He stood in awe like the others. Dragons. He'd heard the talk, who hadn't? They said dragons were alive once more, but far away, over the sea. He'd even been in Harrenhall; the burned stone proof of their fire, their might. Green, black, and red, beautiful things. One burned a bird flying nearby, a medium stream enough to char it. He couldn't help but imagine a perfect sword, forged from its fire.

They all marched forward, King Stannis, Ser Davos, and Gendry, who was actually surprised his uncle Stannis had asked him to come, and a few other close guards. Ser Davos must have suggested his coming for some show of house unity, or political trick, but he didn't care. He knew what people saw when they looked at him, what they always said. He could be his father's twin, with his black hair and blue eyes, tall build and strong frame. He'd never even met the King, but he was sure he would have been disappointed.

He was anxious to see _her _with his own eyes, the Dragon Queen, the Targaryan Usurper, or _Kalesi_, he wasn't sure about that one, but they were all common names around the men back at camp. His Uncle Stannis had been fighting for the throne for quite some time, and now it would all be taken away, by this blonde queen with dragons who had managed to take back King's Landing whereas Stannis' forces couldn't even breach the wall. They said her people were all freed slaves who chose to fight for her, that she brought peace. Gendry was sick of war.

The palace was exactly how he remembered it from the outside, looming and unreal from his place in Flea Bottom. They let them keep their weapons, and guided them to Her. He looked to Ser Davos to see what was expected of him, and the man gave him an encouraging nod. Thankfully Melisandre did not come, The Queen expressly forbid her attendance in this parlay, she apparently didn't trust magic users. He already likes her for that.

On the Iron Throne she sat. She was beautiful, but more than that, truly regal, Queenly. She was small, tan, hair blonde but she drew everyone's attention, sitting on the throne like she was born to it. To see such sights in his time, the wonders and the bad bits the same, what a life. He was meant to work and die in the armory, but here he was.

Stannis stood in front, ready to speak with the Dragon Queen, he did not kneel.

"Welcome, Lord Stannis, you and your companions are most welcome in my home." The Queen announces, gesturing them closer.

"Your home... that throne is mine, it belongs to me."

The Knight immediately pulls out his sword, but the Queen gestures to him and he backs down.

"Is it? Oh, I see. Because it was your brother's. Well he took it from my blood."

"The Mad King left us no choice."

"Perhaps not. He was mad, and a destructive force to the kingdom. And my brother was vain and selfish. I don't have to condone the actions of my ancestors in order to be proud of my name. It is my right and my duty to take back these Kingdoms. And you Baratheon, brave family of Westeros, you can learn to compromise or leave with nothing at all."

"King's don't compromise." Though Gendry could tell he was considering her words.

"Your brother tried to have me and my unborn child killed. Did you know that? He meant to wipe us all out. Shall I do the same to your house, your name? One of the greatest families in Westeros, destroyed here, today." Her voice had gotten steadily louder until she was shouting, never losing her composure.

Things tended to escalate quickly, he knew. He made to stand closer to his uncle, hand on the hilt of his sword, not drawing it.

A man must pick a side, that's what he'd always believed.

"Boy." Stannis orders in reproach, though he looks pleased. He takes his hand away. The Queen stands and her face takes on a softer hue.

"I did not wish to begin this way. And I do not wish to hurt any of you. I have what I want, I don't need revenge, and no more families need be destroyed."

"I have thousands of men outside the gates. If you harm me or my men they will attack. Are you so confident against so many men?"

"No, we would win. But a few might die, and many many of yours surely will. Is that what you want?"

Gendry was so tired all of a sudden. More fighting.

He is speechless after this.

"Think on my words, I am open to some negotiation. Camp life can be trying, come refresh yourselves and then come meet us for dinner later." A hot bath, a delicious meal.

"Thank you."

"Yes, thank you, Your Grace." Ser Davos agrees.

Gendry bows his head in reverence.

They are escorted to quarters in order to make themselves presentable and collect themselves. He is given his own room with a hot bath, soap, a razor, and a fresh set of clothes. Apparently, he's meant to come to the feast tonight.

A girl comes to bring Gendry to a large ornate dining hall, and shows him to his seat. At the head of the table is Daenarys, dressed all in gold. To her right is Tyrion Lannister, and on her left is Stannis. Next to him is Ser Davos, then Gendry. The seat on his other side is empty, but one space over is the Imp.

They pour wine, or in Gendry's case water, and herb encrusted bread is set on plates. He has to sit on his hands to stop himself from grabbing a piece with his bare fingers, and wonders if anyone would notice him taking a bite. The Queen seems to be waiting for something.

A young girl rushes through the entrance, she makes eye contact with the Queen and mouths 'sorry', which receives an eye roll from Her Majesty. She isn't as delicate as the Queen, or as colorful, in a fitted simple tunic and trousers the colors of the forest. They suit her, and don't lessen her effect in the slightest. She has pale skin and a few faint freckles on her nose and cheeks, brown hair in a simple braid down one shoulder, and remarkable steel grey eyes. Not much younger than Gendry himself, he thinks. She sits herself between Gendry and Tyrion.

The Queen makes a toast. "To a new era of peace." Everyone raises their glasses.

Before anyone can take a drink, Stannis makes another toast.

"May the Lord of Light protect us, guide us, and light the way."

Only Stannis, Gendry, and Ser Davos intone "In his name", in response, and the latter only half-heartedly.

The Knight comes from his place against the wall and takes the Queen's cup to sip it first, pausing a second, before handing it back to her. She takes a dainty but substantial drink. Tyrion drinks all of his. The Knight seems to be having water, and the dark haired girl next to him only pretends to drink, but he notices the liquid never goes past her lips. He keeps glancing over to inspect her. She catches him and looks right back, an intensity in her perusal that makes him uncomfortable. He drops his gaze to his plate, but he can see her smirking out of the corner of his eye. He decides she is beautiful, in her way.

They all begin eating, and servants bring delicious dishes to heap on each plate.

The first course is a salad with leafy greens, red fruits, spicy peppers, and candied nuts with a vinegar sauce. He selects a random fork out of the dozen or so and starts spearing the vegetables, some of the nuts start shooting around the plate in protest to the tines. He feels a violent bump on his shoulder and looks over. The girl holds up a little spoon to use with the fork, he picks up his own and tries again. It works after a few tries. He turns again to thank her, but she is distracted talking to Tyrion.

The next course is boar braised in wine, and a creamy broth soup for dipping. He has to stop himself from drinking the broth down and making a fool of himself, so he settles with dipping the bread in it. He then helps Ser Davos cut his meat, a difficult task without all your finger bones. He feels eyes on him, only to see Tyrion looking at him interestedly.

"So, however did you take King's Landing? The dragons alone wouldn't do it, your ancestors spelled the walls against fire." Stannis always did lack tact.

"Thanks to my good friends, it was quite easy to sneak in. The back way." She motions to her right whereby Tyrion nodded in response, and the girl gives a small but genuine smile. Stannis looks bewildered, he stares for more than a minute at the slight brunette.

"Please introduce me to your friends. I recognize the Imp, of course. A Lannister." He almost growls.

"Why do I so often get that reaction? Well it's lovely to see you again as well, Lord Stannis, always so complimentary. How long has it been, since the Battle of Blackwater I believe? Do you recall?" Stannis sneers at the Half Man.

"And I'm sure you must know Ser Berristan Selmy? A true knight." Daenarys interjects.

The Knight puts his hand to his chest and nods, calling Stannis My Lord.

"Yes, you served my brother did you not?" Stannis asks.

"I did. But before that, I served the Targaryans, and always will." He responds.

The dark haired girl to Gendry's left watches everything in silence, keen eyes taking in everyone, even flicking back to himself from time to time.

"Ser Davos Seaworth, Hand to King Stannis."

"Pleasure Ser."

"And my brother's bastard. Gendry." Gendry is shocked to find himself singled out by Stannis; he's barely acknowledged him before. They're all looking at him now, even those steel grey eyes.

"Huh." Tyrion makes a noise deep in his throat. "Yes, I can see that now. Spitting image of Renly. I had no idea he had it in him." Many smile at the joke.

He continues. "Gendry, you said it was?" He looks up at him with patient appraisal.

"Ser Gendry. And, I… Yes, Robert Baratheon was my father." He corrects, feeling pride he didn't know he possessed.

"He had them all over The Seven Kingdoms. But Joffrey, that monster child, ordered them all executed. How are you alive?"

"He's the last."

Tyrion was still looking at Gendry expectantly.

"I travelled with The Night's Watch out of the city, My Lord. I meant to take the black, but…" He doesn't know what else to say. His skin is hot, he's sure he must be red, and he knows they are all scrutinizing him.

"The Wall?" The dark haired girl speaks up next, though only loud enough for him to hear.

"Aye, Milady." He answers her.

"Did you happen to see anyone named Jon Snow? We have similar coloring..." She's very intent on his answer.

"I never actually made it there. I apologize for the confusion." She deflates at that. Who was this Jon? A lover perhaps. Somehow he's irrationally jealous, though he's no right to be. She recovers quickly and addresses her next question to Stannis.

"And you do not know me, Lord Stannis?" Stannis seems confused.

"Do we know each other?"

"We have never met. Though I would know you from your brother. Would you not know me from my father?" His brow furrows further.

"Your father. You're the Stark Girl." He looks bewildered. "We all thought you dead."

"Not yet, My Lord. I find I still have cause to live."

The Queen gives her a stern look. She swallows and tamps down what she was about to say.

"As do we all." The Queen agrees. "So let us settle this. You have fought the Lannister threat well and deserve consideration."

"I deserve the throne." The girl, Lady Arya Stark, rolls her eyes. A Stark. He'd heard the tales, like everyone else. Wars waged, honorable men stabbed in the back.

"Well, you shall not have it. You may have a seat on the small council if you wish." She placates.

"No. No. I can't, I can't leave with nothing. You don't understand."

"It's not nothing. A seat on the council, a voice in public policy, an honorable title. It really is a great deal. I would take it if I were you." Tyrion comments as he takes another gulp of his wine, keen mismatched eyes never leaving Stannis.

"You're not me. I have honor. I don't have brothers and sisters who fuck. I didn't kill my own father in the privy."

"Pride you mean. I have both, as a matter of fact. And while I did kill my father, I daresay he deserved it. And I don't think I should be held accountable for what my siblings did. I wouldn't throw stones were I you Stannis, we've all heard the stories about your brother's untimely demise." Gendry looks over at Stannis for some kind of clue to what that means, Stannis just swallows and continues on.

"What about Dragonstone?"

"It is mine, however, you may keep Storm's End."

"And the North. It's so empty and cold; surely you with fire in your blood have no need for such a savage place. We could divide it, or…"

Arya stabs her knife violently into the table, skids her chair away from the edge and stands.

"You will never have the North. If you try I will kill you myself." The controlled rage next to him has him clutch the sides of his chair in reaction.

"I meant no offense, Lady. I loved your father, he was loyal to my brother, and he supported my claim."

"Yes, he did. And it's what got him killed. I support Daenarys as ruler in the South. But only the Starks may rule in the North."

"But there are no more Starks, only yourself. No woman can expect to rule by herself."

Ser Davos coughs pointedly.

"You think you can be king in the North? Queen Daenarys painted a heroic picture of your battles, but everyone knows you lost more than won. The Northerners will never accept you, not up there." Ser Berristan remarks.

"And a lone girl, even a fierce wolf girl, will not find it so easy to hold such wild territory either." He counters.

The Queen looks thoughtful.

"Danaerys, you're not actually considering this, are you? You promised." The girl looks worried, and its clear how very high the stakes are to her; life or death.

"I did. And I intend to keep that promise. But he has a point Arya. The North has grown even wilder in the past years without a firm hand to keep it in check. That is quite the task for any one person, man or woman."

"I can do it, it's my right, my duty." If sheer intent is all it takes, then yes, he believes her.

"And Lord Stannis, you want more territory, to better the Baratheon name, carve a wider legacy for your house." Stannis looks surprised she has put it that succinctly.

"Yes, that is all that I want. For the Baratheon line."

"It's settled then. We'll join the two houses. We can have the wedding tomorrow."

"What!?" Arya screeches. The Queen looks exasperated, Tyrion amused, Stannis shocked, and Ser Davos unsurprised. Gendry himself is unsure what is even happening.

"A Baratheon will serve as Steward in the North, and Arya will be… as a Lord. I'll write-up a contract, and all involved will sign it on the morrow."

"What!?" Squawks Stannis.

"You cannot do this, My Queen." Arya begs. And Gendry finds he also wants the Queen to reconsider. He doesn't like the thought of his uncle anywhere near this girl.

"Once upon a time, you made me a promise. Do you remember that? Do you?" Arya clenches her jaw and swallows loudly.

"Yes." She admits softly. She looks away from the Queen's gaze.

"And?" The Queen prompts. After no response she repeats. "And…"

"I agree." The words are painfully forced out her throat.

"You wish me to marry that insolent little pup? She might be fertile enough, but after one evening with her I can tell she'd make any man miserable." Stannis insists. Ser Davos sighs.

The Queen looks insulted and Arya smirks for an instant before frowning once more.

"There. See. He doesn't want me, so…"

"Actually, I was referring to your handsome young nephew there. Ser Gendry, was it?"

"Wait, what?" Gendry can only manage that much.

"It is my wish that you marry Lady Arya and unite houses Stark and Baratheon henceforth. What say you?"

Gendry looks around at the different faces, stopping only briefly on Arya who is somewhere between appalled and livid.

"But I… I'm… I'm not a Baratheon. I'm still a bastard."

"Perhaps I could legitimize you. If you prove yourself, if you obey." Stannis offers. He'd never made such an offer before, not in public, no chance to take it back. Ser Davos smiles at him in encouragement, excited in Gendry's stead.

A name. The thing he's wanted since before remembering. But at what price?

"And that's it? As far as you all are concerned, it's done? The matter in the North, settled?" Arya exclaims.

"It really is the best option Arya, surely even you see that. Else you would be throwing an even bigger tantrum now."

"I do not throw tantrums." She whines. Then looks over at Gendry, still seated. "And what about you. Don't you have anything to say? Say no, dam nit. Tell them how miserable I'll make you. Tell them being a damn lord isn't worth all the trouble." Grey eyes boring into him.

He freezes, completely unsure what to say. Any word out of his mouth could be considered offensive.

"Now Ser Gendry, you do have a choice. I certainly won't force you to do anything. Do you agree?"

"Of course he does. He will do as I say. Right?" Stannis looks expectantly at Gendry for an answer. "If you do not, there will be no surname, no land, no inheritance, nothing. Do you understand that, boy?"

The Queen scowls at Stannis, and turns a patient look back to the boy in question.

"No one here will force you, you must agree." The Queen is adamant. Arya pleads with her gaze, although for what he can't be sure.

"I… Yes, I agree." The words come out of their own accord. Most breathe sighs of relief, the Queen is pleased. And Arya storms out of the room in a huff.

Tyrion laughs.

"She's always doing that." And Lord Tyrion drinks the wine Lady Arya left behind in her cup.


	2. Coming to Terms

Chapter 2: Coming to Terms

Gendry

He barely acknowledged them clearing his plates and goblet. He got to his feet less gracefully than he would have liked. Ser Davos looked concerned, and Gendry excused himself. The Queen agreed readily with a small amount of pity. He retreated to his quarters, not even remembering the journey. Mostly, he was in shock. He still needed to talk to Hot Pie, Lommy and the others. But he was too exhausted, too stunned. He took a quick piss in the chamber pot, stripped off his shirt, and fell on the bed. He wiggled his boots off, and fell asleep.

Hours later, a hand covering his mouth wakes him in the dead of night, and he gasps as he sits up abruptly. When his eyes open, it takes a few moments for the dark blurry surroundings to solidify. The first thing he sees is a petite girl, dark hair and grey eyes.

"For fucksakes!" He exclaims. She shushes him.

"You want everyone to hear?" She questions him in a whispered tone.

"What are you doing?! You can't be here." He says quieter. She rolls her eyes and stands up giving him the chance to steady himself. He can see she's wearing tight black leather pants and a fitted black tunic, her hair is hanging free and her feet are bare. The effect is potent. He wonders if he's actually awake.

"You need to tell them you changed your mind."

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and messes with his black hair.

"I can't."

"Yes you can. Just tell them I'm unacceptable. That your sanity is more important than some title. The Queen won't mind."

"Well you ran out so quickly, perhaps you missed the part where Stannis threatened to disown me if I refuse. No name, no title, nothing. So, no, M'lady, I can't." He's still tired and a bit cranky.

"Oh." Her face falls.

"Why don't you do it? Since you're so insistent." She crosses her arms in front of her chest at this.

"I can't." He just raises an eyebrow at her.

"Oh?"

"I'm afraid it might start another war. And your stubborn uncle has a point. My family's position would be stronger with a political marriage. Even I know that."

"Why aren't you already married then?" She's lovely, if challenging. Surely there must have been plenty of men interested in her, or at least in Winterfell.

"Well, there have been a few offers, the Queen set up four in particular, but I turned them all down. She made me swear, the next one she picked, I'd say yes." She looks particularly annoyed, and Gendry finds it adorable. He has enough sense not to say it though.

"But surely she would reconsider, she doesn't really want the last Stark married to some bastard." He argues amiably.

"She doesn't care. And neither do I. My favorite brother was a bastard. That has nothing to do with it. I don't want to marry anyone, period." He is truly surprised to hear her say such a thing about bastards, and it makes him feel vulnerable in a way he hasn't in a long while, he doesn't say anything.

"Better than Stannis, I guess." She concedes. She eyes him curiously. He starts to feel nervous.

"Uh, M'lady, perhaps you should leave. You really shouldn't be here. People will talk."

She rolls her eyes again and sits on his bed. "Are you kidding? We're betrothed, they'll be thrilled." Wait, has she accepted their betrothal? "Besides…" And she pulls out a little knife, one he recognizes from the dining table downstairs.

"Uh." He backs up with his hands in the air and looks around guiltily, at what he isn't sure. She gets up again and puts the knife away.

"Okay. As long as we're stuck with each other, we might as well come to terms."

"Terms?"

"Yes. As in a treaty, an agreement." She explains with a hint of exasperation.

"I know what terms are. I'm just not sure what the hell you're on about." She grins at this.

"Compromise. I'll tell you right here and now what life with me will be like, and then you can tell me if it's still not worth Stannis' wrath." She crosses near the window, and the moon illuminates the side of her face, making her look delicately beautiful; only a trick of the night, he knows.

She takes a long time to say anything further, considering carefully no doubt. He believes in that instant she'd had no more plan than sneaking in.

"I don't cook and sew." She admits.

"What?"

"In fact, I don't do any of that girly stuff, I hate it. And I'm not any good at it."

"Me neither." He responds, amused despite himself.

"And I wear pants." He looks her up and down.

"I see that."

"And if I want to ride my horse, roll in the mud, go run with the dogs, or read battle histories, I will. Understand?" He is honestly baffled, this was honestly the last conversation he ever expected to be having in his life. Right after, you have King's blood.

"Uh, okay." She grunts in approval and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. She also looks surprised at his agreement.

"Really?" She's skeptical. He nods.

"And what about you?" She asks.

"Actually, I quite like the pants, they suit you." He remarks. It's too dark, but he can almost picture her blushing.

"I meant, what do you want? It kind of goes both ways."

"Well I'm sure my uncle and the Queen are drawing up the papers…"

"Obviously, but that's between them. This is between us. If it's a real deal, we both have to get something we want, or it doesn't work." He's a little touched she's concerned with his needs. "This has to be a fair trade or else you won't be obligated to keep your end. Common sense really." Okay, not concern. Still…

"Help, I need help." She seems confused, and he smoothes the hair out of his eyes. "I'm supposed to be a lord. But I have no idea what I'm doing. I keep forgetting people's names and titles, sigils and courtesies. I know they're all laughing at me, but I don't want them to think me a fool. I need someone to help me." He wasn't looking at her eyes at first, but cautiously turns back towards her to see her reaction. She was considering once more before a small smile came across her face.

"I can do that." And he feels a large smile cross his face. She rolls her eyes again and then makes for the door.

"Thank you." He says too loudly. And then softer. "M'Lady."

"My Lady."

"I, yeah."

"No, you said M'Lady. Highborns say My Lady."

"Oh." He'd never even noticed before, it was so natural. "My Lady, then."

"Good. But don't call me that either."

"What? But you just said…"

"Call me Arya, we are going to be sharing a bed starting tomorrow." He is left speechless at that, his jaw hanging open as she leaves as quietly as she entered.

He was getting married tomorrow.

Author's Note: Next Chapter- The Wedding. Arya's perspective, I think. And no one will die, I don't think. There will be drunkenness. Any comments are helpful.


	3. A Royal Wedding

Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews guys, it really made me happy.

Arya

A Royal Affair

After her talk with the boy, Gendry, she went atop the Keep, climbing past where the stone steps stopped. The fresh air calmed her down, though her feet were getting cold; she should have worn her boots. But she was stealthier without them, made less sound, and she wanted to be alone, to spend her last free moments high up, with the air on her face. She wasn't upset really, just pensive. Her last few hours as a free woman, and a Stark. The Queen had forced it upon her, and Stannis wanted it settled. Perhaps she wanted it settled too, no more waiting for the other shoe to drop. As the sun rose, she fell asleep.

She awoke hours later, not rested at all, all crooked from sleeping in a strange position. She climbed down to her room only to see frantic serving girls loudly conjecturing about Arya's whereabouts, panic evident on their faces.

"What's going on?" She asks, thinking there was an attack or some other emergency. They all sigh in relief in unison. They strip her and shove her into a lukewarm bath, scented with rose oils, and put a hair treatment clay on to set while she bathed. They laugh and giggle, making comments and asking questions. She just blocks them out, unable to be part of girly rituals on this day of all days. Let them talk, it meant nothing to her. She even heard one girl jibe about how big Gendry was, and how she bet he was big everywhere. Arya chose that time to officially tune them out and pretend they did not exist.

The Queen entered then, followed by a servant carrying an exquisite dress. She thought about her mother, and what she would have wanted. What she would have been doing. She wished very much she were here, to tell her what to do, what was expected of her. But that time was done, and she would never get to share things with her the way she'd always wanted to.

Daenarys must have anticipated this, because she didn't even scold Arya for disappearing.

"I had this dress made for you, well, I had a dress I already owned embellished, and it is perfect." It was beautiful, white and flowing, tight at the bust with long tapered sleeves, taken in at the waist with boning, it then hung down silkily. They put on a new undershirt, an extra underwire, and then another layer. She had intended to put up a fight, but Danaerys brought a fine bottle of wine with her. The ladies insisted it would be easier to do her hair and makeup without staining the dress.

"You really will be so lovely, well, you're always lovely, but everyone will be talking about this event for the centuries." Danaerys was clearly vicariously enjoying the event in Arya's stead.

The look of horror must have shown on Arya's face, because she suggested another glass of wine.

"I too was pushed into marriage. I was… frightened."

"I'm not afraid. That's not it." She insists.

"Well, I was. And it's okay if you are. But I grew to truly love him. Really, I did."

"My parents too. My mother was meant to marry my uncle Brandon, but he died in the war, so she married his brother instead."

"And they loved each other?"

"Yes. But…" Danaerys takes Arya's hand in her own in solidarity.

"But what."

"It didn't end well for them, did it?" The women had begun brushing out her hair and tied it into intricate braids, interweaving silver hairpieces in a few places.

"It's over now. We're at peace now, and some of that is due to you. The people can't take any more bloodshed, and this arrangement appeases everyone. You're very brave Arya, I want you to know I see that."

"You are as well." They share a warm smile, but all too soon The Queen must attend to other pressing wedding arrangements and rises gracefully. She motions her attendant forward, taking from her a scroll, and then handing it to Arya.

"By the way, here is the contract, you'll need to sign it, and Ser Gendry will do the same. When you can." Arya looked at it once the Queen left. She finished her glass of wine, and began to read. She read it once.

"What!?"

Then read it again.

"What?! No, No. Hell no!" And with that she stormed out of the room, down the hall, and into Stannis' room in her shift and underwire, ready to tell him where to stick it.

"What the Seven Hells is this?" She asks rhetorically as she throws the paper in front of him. He doesn't act taken aback, he is somewhat used to her manner by now.

"The contract, you will sign it."

"What is this? You promised men to help keep order in the North and rebuild Winterfell."

"Yes, it says right there, 500 men."

"It says, '500 men to serve in the North, to be paid upon the successful birth of a Baratheon heir.' How dare you renege on our deal."

"I haven't. I will give them to you. But the boy is the only Baratheon left, my only daughter cannot reproduce, and Renly had no children. I need many heirs to continue the Baratheon line. And you as well, you need more wolves, am I right? New pups to replace the ones lost from your pack."

"I, of course. But this is wrong and you know it." She is flustered and reconsiders her position. "I want half now." He seems to be pleased with her negotiations.

"You can have some now." He pauses overly long. "And, when I return to Storm's End in a few months to check in, I will bring you more."

"Check in? Is that kind of joke? Check what? How many months?"

"The boy. You've seen him. He may have my brother's blood, but he's still a bastard, he doesn't know any better. Your little Queen had to convince me quite thoroughly that he could be taught. But that means you have to train him, make him presentable."

"The rest of the men? All of them? You'll give them to me? Baby or no?" She clarifies.

"Yes, but the boy will have to pass my inspection. Do you think you can manage? Am I asking too much?" She shakes her head in the negative. "Do we have a deal, then?"

She signs the damn paper. He nods his agreement.

"Good. Is that what you're wearing?" Motioning to her shift and intricate boning. She keeps her silence, simply turning to exit, but not before picking up a fine bottle of port sitting on a desk. She's pretty proud of herself for how agreeable she is being.

Arya heads back to her room to have her make-up applied and to put on the final layer to her gown. As they put silver liquid on her lids to match the rest of the metal adorned throughout the ensemble, and blush on her cheeks, she keeps at the surprisingly potent wine.

A broodmare, a schoolteacher, a wife, a mother, a dutiful daughter, a lady and a lord. For fucksakes.

They showed her herself in the mirror, her reflection some lovely, evil twin. Or maybe, the one in the glass was the good twin. The one trapped somewhere while this darker, emptier Arya pulled her strings. She couldn't know. She would have to play a lady today to get through it, that was that.

One of the girls had a tear in her eye as she applied the berry lip stain. She had insisted on sensible boots, hidden by the layers of the dress, but still found her steps unsure. The wine, and then the stronger port, made her footing uncertain. She did manage it though. She heard the music, and walked onward, Tyrion came out to give her away. He gave her a gentle reassuring squeeze. How was it he'd become such a good friend? She might have broken down then, in the missing of her father, praying to the Gods that he understood what she had done, that he approved of her choices, were it not for Tyrion.

That was one positive about having a binding in the Red Keep, the marriage would be officiated by the Sept of the Seven, the New Gods. This marriage, while official, didn't really count. Not as far as she was concerned. Her father followed the Old Gods, and so did she. If she could never find it in her to love Gendry, if she never learned to stomach him, at least it wasn't forever. Maybe she'd be stuck the rest of her life, or his, but not in the afterlife. She could do this.

As she passed all the curious onlookers, most she'd never seen before, she tried hard to keep her gaze forward. She saw Gendry, standing beside his uncle and Ser Davos, looking so nervous she thought he might faint. He looked nice, dressed up in Baratheon colors, combed and groomed. Maybe he'd had the same treatment. He just stared at her as she walked closer, as if in a trance. She wasn't really nervous at all, she felt very pleasantly numb. As Tyrion handed her off to Gendry, she stumbled a bit but her husband to be kept her upright.

"You look nice." She told him, thinking that was already a very nice wifely thing she was doing by being complimentary. It was probably a good idea to practice now, she really wasn't good at shit like that. And she didn't mind saying it, it was true.

He looked about to say something, but the High Septon came in and began the proceedings, asking all to rise then sit again.

The whole thing was a bit of a blur, repeating oaths and exchanging cloaks. She did it all, and hoped no one could tell how much she'd had to drink. At the end they said the words together, in sync, "Father. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Warrior. Smith. Stranger." Almost a magic spell. And just like that, the words are said and cannot be unsaid.

She looks up at him then, really looks, and he looks back, just as hard; she grabs his face and kisses him, the final piece of the ritual, the official binding. She isn't sure how long it lasts, she isn't really conscious of time, but it is happening, and for a time she forgets where she is and what she is doing. When air becomes an issue she pulls away. The world comes back, and she hears cheering and shouting; blessings, songs, and laughter. She feels immediately self-conscious and makes to escape, Gendry lays his palm on her shoulder and follows her out, and she is reminded that there is no escape, not from the long night ahead.

Author's Note: Yes she is grumpy. But in her defense she feels very trapped, and is trying hard to put on a brave face. Next scene includes the bedding, it will not be puppies and kittens. They can't just fall in love right away and all will be perfect. Angsty, right? Please review.


	4. Royal Wedding & Bedding

Author's Note: As I mentioned, this is angsty, I believe all fluff must be earned. Enjoy.

Royal Wedding & Bedding

Arya

In the next room are a banquet, intricate table settings, and wall hangings. Everyone files in, and Gendry and Arya take their places at the head table beside the Dragon Queen and Stannis. She sees Gendry look longingly at a table towards the back, filled with shabbily dressed men, but he doesn't go to them. When the woman comes around with spiced wine, she sticks her cup out greedily. She feels her new husband staring at her.

"What?" She questions him.

"Nothing." He says. Looking away.

"I don't think you've had enough. Here." She tries to push her cup in his face, but he pushes it away.

"No thank you, My La" He stops himself at her annoyed look. "Arya." He does laugh a little at her behavior and the look on her face.

"Alright then." He can be stupid if he wants. She finishes off the cup.

"I was just gonna say. You look, very beautiful." His voice catches at the end, and she thinks he must be sincere, but she can't look at him.

"Thank you." She frowns a bit at her empty goblet. She places her cup down to flag down a passing cupbearer. They're all occupied and she turns around in defeat. She takes Gendry's cup and finds it full, she gulps some down without tasting it. They were meant to share everything now, after all. But it's only water. She drinks it anyways, and it is refreshing.

The Queen makes a toast, and everyone cheers. Lord Tyrion asks her for a dance, and she happily accepts. He twirls her round, she has to stoop a bit, but she finds herself enjoying the spinning immensely. As she starts to feel dizzy, Tyrion slows down.

"Quite alright, My Lady Arya? You seem a bit out of it."

"Just a bit dizzy."

"I meant other than the dancing."

"Why would anything be wrong?" She asks sarcastically.

"Oh, Arya, so dramatic." She holds out her arms to let him do a spin, and he does it with a low chuckle.

"He's not so bad, is he? Maybe a bit simple in the head, but he seems nice enough."

"Stop, Tyrion." She will need to defend him, the other highborns will eat him alive.

"I only meant, he'll be kind to you. And he'll let you make all the decisions. You will always wear the proverbial pants, as it were. I know you'll love that. What more could you ask for, really?"

"Well said. What more indeed?" She takes a sip from the goblet Tyrion had managed to keep throughout the dance.

"Tell me then. What more?"

"I want. I want. I don't know. I know I don't want to keep losing things. I don't want to give up my name. Not after all this, not after everything."

"You'll always be a Stark, no question. It is who you are. No vows can change that. Wild as the wolf. Honorable like your father, but not overly burdened with unnecessary loyalty. You will survive, keep your family line alive, and fortify the North until it thrives once more. No one can ever claim you have not done your family proud." And she did feel better at that.

Lord Stannis was next, it was a stiff dance, which she hobbled through. She looked over to see Gendry dancing with Daenarys, concentration on his face as he completed the steps adequately. Stannis looked on and commented. "All the paperwork is signed, now there's only one more part before it's official."

"I of all people am aware of my duty. I don't need any lectures on my wedding day."

"I am only trying to say, I'm pleased with the agreement. Our houses were always meant to be joined, and now it is so. I do have faith you will keep up your end of the deal. You are a stubborn little thing." It occurs to her to be offended, but chooses rather to take it for the compliment it was meant to be. She thanks him and excuses herself for some fresh air, making her way to a balcony.

There the Red Woman finds her, seeks Arya out to giver her a message, more a warning than anything. Arya finds her beautiful, of course, red red hair, soft skin, a confidence the likes of which she'd never seen. The Woman whispers.

"You will never bear a stag." And then passes on, mission accomplished. Arya says nothing, stunned by the confrontation. Either the drink or the cool night air have sapped her wits. She has no reaction, she hasn't even fully comprehended her words. Daenarys had allowed the Red Woman on Stannis' insistence, but wasn't happy about it. Arya, for her part, didn't trust the woman.

By the end of the night, Arya had danced with Ser Davos, Ser Berristan, and every other lord in attendance, except of course her own lord husband.

She was stuffing garlic butter shrimp with creamy pepper sauce into her mouth when someone shouted that it was time for the bedding ceremony. Without hesitation she grabbed a sharp fork from the appetizer table and pushed it up her sleeve, prong side out, she was ready. When some of the jeering men began to rip at her clothes, she stabbed at them with her fork, making them back up in shocked anger. She made it to her room with only a few tears in her dress, and Gendry was nowhere to be found. She had time to prepare, have the upper hand. She skillfully removed the layers of her clothes until she was at her bottom shift and poured herself more wine. She was still hungry, hadn't eaten all day, and she wished she had brought some of the shrimps with her or perhaps some lemon cakes.

Gendry stumbled in shortly after, closing the door, rather cute in his small clothes. He had no shirt, and she noticed he was tall, muscled, and strong. Big though, and she remembered what the girls said as they were conditioning her hair.

She placed the sharp fork on the table and poured him a glass, she held out the cup for him to take, yet he still refused.

"Worried I'll poison you? You haven't taken a drink from me all night."

"No. I just don't drink."

"Really? Why not?"

"I just. I don't. My father did, but not me." Hmm, she thought. He poured some water for himself from a pitcher and offered her some. She declined obstinately.

"We don't have to do this. I mean, not right now. I don't mind really…" He started to try to appease her.

"Well, I do. Come the morning they're going to check to make sure we consummated our marriage. It's not official until they find blood on the sheets. I'd rather just get it over with, I mean, if it's all the same to you." She puts the glass down and moves towards him, her shift rising up a little on her thighs and drooping off one shoulder, she sees his gaze wandering between her chest and her face.

"You're drunk." He points out.

"Yes, very, and I have been all day. What difference does that make?"

"I just don't think you want…"

"Maybe you don't want. Am I not to your taste?" She feels hurt for a second. Then she considers his resemblance to his uncle Renly. She glances downward and notices a tenting in his pants.

"No, no. It's not that. Definitely not that." He does look at her then, and she moves her gaze back up to his eyes.

"Alright then. There are no more reasons not to." She sighs with impatience then stands on her tiptoes to kiss him, only succeeding in bumping her eye on his chin.

"Ouch." She says, rubbing the area.

"You alright? Sorry. You okay?" He's laughing at her under his breath. She wants to take back control of things, it's what she always does.

"Fine. Fine." She reassures him. "I've had worse."

He blows out a rush of air.

"It's too bad you don't drink, you could use it. You're making me nervous." She comments.

"Sorry."

"And stop apologizing. What exactly are you sorry for?"

"I don't know. You seem so angry at me. Obviously I'm doing something to upset you."

"Haha. That's cute. If I was angry at you, you would know it."

"Oh, good." Sarcasm, cute.

"But if I was angry, it'd be because you're always apologizing for everything. And because you never say or ask what you really want to."

"Ask what, My La… Arya?"

"Well. For one. Surely you've heard the talk?" She gestures to herself.

"What talk?"

"Your uncle insisted on an examination to check that I was, 'intact.'" She makes quotation marks with her fingers. He makes a horrified face. "He only relented when Daenarys insisted it was barbaric. But now there's more talk than ever, you see. Is she or isn't she? You really haven't heard the gossip?" She takes another mouthful of wine.

"I don't listen to that nonsense." His ears are red.

"Well you should. Most of it is bullshit, but a few tiny kernels are true. It's good practice deciphering lies from truth. That's a lordly tip for you. Remember that."

"I will." He drinks water from the pitcher.

"Go ahead. Ask." He pours the water into a basin on a cherry wood side table.

"What?" He submerges his hands in the basin to get his hands wet.

"I know you want to." Then he runs his fingers through his hair, making the ends hang heavier.

"It's none of my business." He dries off a bit with a little towel that was folded neatly next to the pitcher.

"Hah. Well it's more your concern than anyone else's. But if you don't care…."

He chooses not to answer, so obviously uncomfortable.

"And you?" Strangely, she's curious all of a sudden.

"Me? Well I. I. Yes, I have…" He tries to fold the little towel up as it was before, but it's not right, he doesn't know what to do with it.

"Figures. Men can do whatever they like, and women get inspected. Or almost inspected." Well, Stannis meant to inspect Gendry himself in a few months time, but that was a different kind of examination, and she would make sure he wasn't aware of it. He obviously wasn't great under pressure, it would be up to her. Nothing new.

Arya feels just drunk enough and proceeds to take the cloth from his hand, throw it on the floor, and pull him towards the bed. Her in her shift, and him in the tiny small clothes that men wore to protect their jewels, she kisses him, sloppily, and it was like how it was in the Sept, nothing else. He is so nervous, and she just wants it to be over. He kisses her back, she's sure of that. But the rest is a bit fuzzy.

She does remember pushing his small clothes down and pulling him towards her, and the pain as he pushed into her. Her mother had warned her how much it would hurt, or more, tried to warn her off it. A sword and a sheath. Maybe she'd only been trying to scare her into protecting her virtue, but what Arya had been expecting was completely different than the reality. He did pause, straining himself to keep still. She unclenched her bottom lip from her teeth and told him to "go on." It was quick, and hurt the whole time. He had his eyes shut above her, and rolled off when he was done.

She looks at him more closely, his sweaty brow, and slick chest, his blue eyes flick over to her. "You okay?"

"It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be." Bluntness is her default.

"I'm sorry about, I didn't mean to…" He trails off. She recognizes he's embarrassed, and she almost feels bad for him too.

"It's fine. I'm tired." She blows out the candle near her side. "Goodnight."

She turns over, her back to him and pulls the covers up to her chin.

"Goodnight Arya."

She feels his gaze on her back for a long time, but eventually he lays back and falls asleep. She moves around a bit to get comfortable and feels the wet spot on the sheets from her maidenhead. She becomes acutely aware of the stickiness between her legs, the pounding in her head, and the dryness in her throat. She takes one more look at him, serene, too sweet for his own good, and suddenly she can't breathe. She has to get out. She slips out of bed, careful not to disturb the mattress or the covers or him. Padding on her bare feet she wraps his Baratheon cloak around her shoulders, all covered. With the cloth from the floor she wipes between her legs, harder than she should and feels the soreness that she knows will linger for some time. Not knowing what to do with the cloth either, she balls it up in her fist, taking it with her. She creeps out of the room and makes it back to her own quarters unseen.

In the sanctuary of her room she feels only slightly more herself, and realizes she needs to get home. Immediately. This instant. It is the only way to be herself again. She would ready her things: gather supplies from the kitchens, talk to the stable boys to have them get their horses ready, tack and all, and they could be on their way before midday. And then she did breathe easier.

Author's Note: Next- Meeting the companions, setting out on the road, breakdowns and new connections.


	5. A Rocky Start

A Rocky Start

Gendry

He awoke to a serving girl lifting up the covers and exposing him to the cool early morning air.

"Milord." The girl gasped. "I'm sorry, I thought you were already about." She had strawberry blonde hair beneath a white cap, and she had nice brown eyes. No one had called him Milord before, not being serious. It felt wrong.

"It's fine. Have you seen, my wife?" That didn't sound real coming out of his mouth either.

"I saw her down in the hall at breakfast."

He thanked her, pulled his smallclothes up, and hopped out of bed, he needed her to leave so he could use the chamber pot. She pulled up the sheets, and he saw the bright red stain, the blood Arya had been so concerned with, blooming like a poppy on the crisp white sheets. He wouldn't call himself a war hero, but he had seen a fair amount of battles under Stannis, and the Brotherhood, Harrenhall, and the road before that, so much blood and death. The amount of blood there on the sheets, it wasn't fatal, he knew that much, but from a deep wound. The maid looked startled, gave him a side-eye, and then went back to stripping the sheets. Fuck. As if he didn't feel guilty enough. After she left he peed and got dressed quickly. He made it down to the dining hall, only to be told his lady wife had gone to the stables. At the stables, they said she had gone to the laundry. There he ran into the same blonde girl from earlier, she was gossiping loudly with another, and he overheard her say how slowly Arya had sat down at the table that morning.

"Well, he's near a giant that one, most like split her near in half." And they giggled a bit before noticing him there, then turning bright red. He directed his question to the one he hadn't met.

"Have you seen Arya?"

"Lady Baratheon? Yes, Milord, she went to the kitchens, I think." She stuttered out the last bit.

"Thank you." He bit out.

When the kitchen girl told him she was out in the yard, he was beginning to suspect that Arya was avoiding him, and it gave him a deep churning in his stomach.

He had been so nervous last night, and had done everything wrong. He didn't have much experience, only one other woman, if that even really counted. But he was certain he hadn't done right by her. He could imagine what his friends might say, endlessly teasing him for performing so poorly. And despite it all, he had enjoyed it, enjoyed her. He really did want to see her, make sure she was all right. He was worried, even more so because he saw firsthand how ridiculously stubborn she was. More so than himself, and he had been nicknamed The Bull by his master, Tobo Mott. If there was something wrong, there was no way she'd ever tell him about it.

He made it out to the yard, where much of the camp was settled. The Queen, Lord Tyrion, and Ser Davos were about. There she was, in pants and a tunic, belted at the waist, talking to the Dragon Queen, who for her part looked frustrated.

"Arya, please wait, perhaps you should wait another day. I would prefer to say goodbye properly." She was tightening the straps on some of the supply bags, making sure they sat right on one of the horses.

"Whether we do it now or over the course of a week, the goodbye won't make it any easier."

Ser Davos motions him over, he starts over and loses the rest of the conversation between the two small women.

Ser Davos greets him with a clap on the back.

"Alright boy?" He asks with a grin. "You've got a stupefied way about you this morning."

"Fine. Looks like I'm leaving. Now." He gives a humorless laugh.

"Aye, you've got a long road ahead." He coughs, uncomfortable.

"Well I guess this is goodbye then, Ser Davos. Thank you for everything."

"Nah. No thanks necessary. Truly. You're a good lad. And I'll be seeing you in Storm's End in a few months time."

"A few months. But it's like you said. I'm a lad. Not a lord. Ser Davos, what if I can't do this?"

"Now you listen to me. You earned this. It's in your blood and it's in the blood you spilt to get here. You've always been Gendry Baratheon, only now everybody knows it. You'll do fine. And you've got the girl to help you. I'll miss you, though."

"And you. What about my uncle?"

"He's, talking with that woman. She said there was an urgent warning in the fire."

"Ah, of course." He is disappointed, despite himself.

"Never you mind. It's a fresh start, aye?"

"Aye. Good bye Ser Davos." And Gendry makes to shake his hand, but Ser Davos takes him into a hug. Ser Davos is no lord, but he's the best man Gendry has ever known. Ser Davos takes his leave and Gendry is unsure what to do with himself. He ends up standing around like an idiot.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees The Queen place her hand atop an ornate trunk, but he has no idea what's in it. Arya nods her head, but reacts in slow motion, watching emotionlessly as it's added to the rest of the baggage carried by the litter. There will be a few men transporting and guarding the bulk supplies they are taking with them up North. It includes bare necessities with a few precious stones hidden low, just in case. Of course the more personal effects will be kept in their own saddlebags, smaller coins packed underneath. He thinks about going to Arya but can't figure out what to say to her, so he joins his friends as he catches their shapes out of the corner of his eye.

Tom and Anguy came with him from the Brotherhood, they followed him rather than follow _her_ bidding. They all wanted away from the unnatural ghost leading the men, but it was only the musician and the archer who had left with him. Hot Pie, the baker, and Lommy, the dyer's apprentice, had been with him since travelling with the Night's Watch and through Harrenhall.

Tom and Anguy are only going as far as the Brotherhood camp, choosing to rejoin them rather than serve Stannis. He's glad for their company, he knows better than anyone how dangerous the King's Road can be, even now that the war was mostly done. And they were good men, good travelling companions. Especially with Arya in tow, she seemed to be the least cautious person in the Seven Kingdoms. And they both still had enemies, she seemed keen to remind everyone at every opportunity. And Lommy and Hot Pie were coming because, well, that's just what they did. Stuck together. Hot Pie had changed over the years, braver, stronger, but still obsessed with food and still fat. He loved the bugger. And Lommy, he'd come a long way and was more than decent in a battle. He liked the boy, but lately he was acting particularly distant. Being a lord made him different, and the others didn't quite know how to act around him anymore. They would all meet today, his old world and his new one. At the wedding feast, his friends had come, but were seated out of the way. He looked on with envy as they ate and drank and talked and laughed. But all the way across the room had felt like a thousand leagues.

Gendry had wanted to talk to them, to be himself, not Lord Baratheon, even for a moment. He was determined to remind them they were all still his brothers, no matter what his title was. He just had no idea how he was going to do that and impress his new wife as well. With the haste with which she was moving about, he suspected she would much rather be making this trip without him.

"I've made my choice Dany, please accept it." Arya insisted.

"As you say, I suppose I really can't reason with you." The Queen admitted. She is wearing another flowy robe, this one striped like a zebra, one of the animals from across the sea.

"Of course not, you should know that by now." But she was smiling.

"I don't know what I'll do without you. No one here knows me." Arya puts her hand on the Queen's arm and squeezes affectionately. The Queen's eyes are a bit moist, but she does not cry.

"I will miss you, as a sister. And know that as long as a Stark holds the North, you will be welcome. Someone there knows you."

"Thank you. I would be honored to visit your home, you've made it sound so magical."

"It is magic, Khaleesi, the Old Ways still live on. I look forward to showing the Mother of Dragons the wildness of my homeland." They are almost teasing with their formalities.

"Then I shall. And until then, care for yourself, sister." They share smiles and a brief hug.

"Ah, My Lady Arya, we shall all die of boredom here without your irreplaceable presence. I personally will cry myself to sleep every night." Tyrion exaggerates, but the fond look on his face belies his jesting.

"Somehow I very much doubt that. But I will miss you, Half Man. I hope very much our paths cross again."

"Oh, we will see each other again My Lady. I shall make sure of it." She stoops down then and hugs him, and a few of the men snigger at the sight. The Knight bows to her and then rights himself, she accepts his bow with grace.

"She really is a lady. You can't tell so well from the pants. But she's got noble blood, for sure." Anguy comments.

"I bet she'll like my sour cherry pie. Highborns love it." Hot Pie adds.

"She's gonna give you a rough time Gendry, make no mistake." Tom laughs.

Lommy is strangely silent. Normally he makes clever remarks and jokes around. But since the betrothal of his best friend, he wasn't speaking to Gendry at all. But he was still coming with him. So there was that.

He looked over to Arya to see what she was doing only to find her looking in his direction as well, before busying herself with the saddlebags. He decides to just get it over with, and makes his way over to her.

"Arya…" He starts. She freezes but doesn't turn around.

"Good morning." It's nearly noon, now that he'd spent the morning running after her, and the last hour just watching her from across the yard, but doesn't comment. She goes back to checking the bags. He notices one of the silver hairpieces still stuck in her hair, hanging by a single strand of hair loose from her braid. He walks up behind her and she slows her work. He reaches out to pluck the silver from her hair and she flinches away from him.

"Sorry." She says, still not looking at him.

He reaches out again, and though she might have wanted to, she doesn't move away this time. He takes the piece of jewelry from her hair and holds it up before her face to show her. She thanks him before going to inspect the other horses. He puts the little metal thing in a pocket, before checking that his own horse was properly saddled.

"Arya. Maybe we should wait a while yet, just 'til tomorrow even." The idea of riding today, of starting the journey; he had no idea what to do with her.

"We leave now, immediately." With that she swings up onto the saddle, and visibly grimaces as she does, swallowing painfully. He knows it hurts her, but she won't admit it. She trots over to the men to give them special instructions, and deems them ready. He gets onto his own horse, much less gracefully than his lady wife, and signals for his four companions to join them. She notices them now, and rides back over.

"Why aren't these men with the others? Do you know how to follow simple instructions?"

"Lady Arya, these are my friends. Lommy, Hot Pie, Anguy, and Tom. We've known each other a long time. They're coming with us up the road, at least as far as The Fork." He says.

"My Lady." They intone, though in Hot Pie's case it comes out mulidee.

"Which one is which?"

"This is Tom and Anguy, members of the Brotherhood Without Banners." Tom bows theatrically, and he looks ridiculous. But Anguy surprises him.

"Aye, Milady. I was in the Brotherhood, and 'afore that, I served Riverrun. The Blackfish. I'm glad to see Tully blood live on."

"Well met Anguy, I'm glad to have my uncle's bannerman at my back." Anguy sits up straighter at that, pride evident.

"And this is Hot Pie."

"You're a soldier?" She is skeptical. Tom lets out a loud chortle before he can stop it.

"Aye, but mostly I do the cooking. I do a nice sour cherry pie..."

"And this is Lommy." Lommy looks up with his brown eyes, gives a slight bow from his horse, but says nothing.

"It's nice to meet you as well, Lommy."

"Ser Lommy."

"Apologies, Ser Lommy."

"And this is my wife, Lady Arya." He will never get used to calling her that. She nods.

"We'll keep a fast pace, you want to come along I expect you all to keep up." And she urges her horse forward.

They are stunned for a moment, but quickly follow her to the gate. The 20 Stannis soldiers follow at a crawl behind them, keeping a much slower pace. Gendry thinks right then and there, that this will be a torturous trip.


	6. Rough Riding

Author's Note: So this is actually the second part of the Last Chapter. I thought it was too long. I will also upload a New Chapter after this. So win-win.

Rough Riding

Gendry

They had been riding for hours upon hours. The entourage with the bulk of their belongings was far behind them. The men and himself had tried suggesting a lunch break, a rest break, a chance to water their horses and take a piss more than once, but she kept refusing, kept insisting. They needed to continue on, she said. No stops, no resting. All small talk he had attempted to start with her was met with silence or clipped responses, obviously having no patience for chatter. They ate dried fruits and sipped water from their skins as they rode. When one had to take a piss, they stopped, wandered off into the bushes, while the rest kept going. The man would have to trot his horse to catch up. In short, the journey was proving to be exactly as he had predicted, Hellish.

As the sky grew colder, and more of the men began to complain, Gendry had had enough.

He rode up next to her, she didn't slow or even acknowledge him.

"Arya, we need to stop soon." She sighed.

"It's not even dark yet."

"What about the horses? We can't keep them going like this all the way to Winterfell. You know that. They need rest, water, and food. The men too, we've been going all day, non stop, we need a break."

"Oh, I see, the _horses_ need a break. Really, they need a break? Or the men don't want to admit to being tired? If they're not willing to be outridden by a woman, too bad. We just need to keep going." She sat up straighter.

"Their humans Arya. And so am I. It's okay if you are too. You don't have to make everything a fight." She did look at him then, chest heaving, eyes glaring, beautiful.

"Just a little bit further. That's all." He tries to grab her reins but she blocks his hands with her wrist, maneuvering away. He speeds up and cuts off her horse with his.

"Arya! Arya stop it. Stop." Her eyes are furious.

"How dare you try to take control of my horse. That's a great offense up North. It could earn you a few lashes and a day in the stocks."

"You're not funny. We're stopping now, that's it, and I won't hear another word about it."

"Oh, you're telling me what to do now?" The hint of disbelief in her voice gives it a manic quality.

"I'm telling you when you're being stupid, and acting like a spoiled child. So yeah." She makes no attempt to move her horse, both in a stand still, Arya's horse chewing on grass underfoot.

"Not even North yet and you're already the lord of me, eh? Good for you, starting to talk like a lord, act like one. Remember this Gendry Baratheon, _I'm _the Warden of the North; _you_ don't give _me_ orders." And with that she jumps off of her horse and heads straight for the trees, off the path and into the woods.

"For fucksakes!" He mutters as he dismounts his horse and follows after her. He signals the men to stay there and take a break; they are happy to oblige. They sigh in relief as Gendry goes deeper into the woods following her trail.

When he finds her she is leaning against a tree, forehead pressed against the bark, her fingers digging into the grooves of the wood. She looks as though she's trying to tear out the healthy bark with the strength of her fingertips alone, more likely to break her fingers than the tree, muttering all the while between shallow gasping breaths.

"Arya…" At once he feels guilty for intruding on her. She turns her head and seeing him, whines low in her throat.

"Why can't you go? Just go away." She turns her head back around.

"No. I'm worried about you."

"Well I don't need you. I don't need anybody. What I do need is five fucking minutes to myself, without you hanging around, looking at me like some kicked puppy. I just can't do it right now. Go away."

"Kicked puppy? Kicked puppy? If I'm kicked, it's cause you keep kicking me. What did I do to you? You're so angry, and I don't know what I did. You want to take it out on me, fine, but do not take it out on the men. Do you understand me, Arya?" She steps away from the tree and nods.

"You're right. Would you please apologize to them, for me?" She gave in far too easily.

"I think you should tell them yourself."

"You're right. And I will. Just. Just give me a minute." She presses her back against the tree trunk and circles around to the other side, out of sight. He rubs his face out of weariness.

"Fine." He goes around the tree only to watch her circle back to the front again. "I'll go." He follows her back around. "I will go. Just tell me what it is about me that offends you. I know it's not 'cause I'm a bastard. I know about your brother. What then? Tell me what wrong I did you, and I will go." He tries to get her to look at him but she won't.

"You haven't done anything. You didn't do anything."

"Well. I know that. But you're acting like…"

"A spoiled brat. You said that already."

"I shouldn't have said that." She looks at him then.

"Why not? You're right. I'm being horrible, and I know I am, but I can't seem to stop. And you're just so damn nice and understanding. I keep treating you like shit and you just keep taking it. It's driving me nuts. Be angry. Yell at me, scream." She inhales loudly through her nostrils.

"I'm not that nice. It's just hard to get me angry. And I don't wanna fight. I only want to talk. Tell me what's wrong, and maybe I can help." Her lip starts to tremble. Oh no.

"Arya no, please don't cry."

"I don't cry." She insists. At the look on her face, he is reminded of a spooked pony, horseshoe splintered into the hoof, panicking and pounding the slivers farther in.

"I don't want to make you miserable, Arya. That's the last thing I want." She sniffles once, twice.

"It's not you. It's them. You don't understand, you can't."

"Explain it to me." He rubs his hand over his eyes.

"Please just go." And just like that she's turning from him again.

"Okay, I am angry. You've officially made me angry. There."

"Good. Be angry. I was getting ready to slap some sense into you. Just go along with whatever they say. Do whatever they want. Yes Milord, no Milord. It's pathetic."

"I knew it! I knew you thought that."

"Yeah. I do. This is all crazy, ludicrous, preposterous. And you're acting like it's fucking normal. What the Hell is wrong with you?"

"Just 'cause I'm not yelling, crying, and throwing tantrums doesn't mean I'm not having a _terrible_ time by the way, thank you very much for that." He throws his hands up in the air for emphasis.

"I don't cry." She growls. And she hadn't, yet. She seemed to be holding them back with sheer force of will.

"You are such a pain in my ass."

"You're one to talk." At that, he instantly feels guilty.

"Shit. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinkin'."

"No. I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it."

"Last night…"

"No. It's not about that. I told you this isn't about you. Okay. Please, get over yourself." He's not sure whether to be relieved or angry again.

"What then?"

"It's just, it's just one more thing. That's all it is. I have to remember that."

"One more what?"

"One more hurt. One more lesson. I promised I would do anything to get my home back. Anything. And I have. I have killed. And I've been shamed. I've been hungry and cold. I'm closer, but still so fucking far. I don't even know what I'll find when I get there. But I do know it'll be empty." Tears are falling down her cheeks. "Dead, all dead." She looks so haunted and small. "And now when I go back, I won't even be a Stark. I'll be a Baratheon. A wife. A _lady_." She spits out the word. And cries for real. She keeps talking through the tears, though it's hard to understand. "I'll be some stranger. That girl, sister, daughter. That girl, really is dead. They even made me give up my name." She hits the tree, hard.

"Arya, don't."

She hits it again, same hand, same knuckles, harder.

"I don't even have anything left to give up, to trade, to destroy."

"Stop, you're gonna…"

"There are no Weirwood trees this far south. You Southerners don't worship the Old Gods anymore because they require too much sacrifice. And there's always blood. The Gods demand blood." She forms a fist to punch the tree again but Gendry holds onto her wrist. She tries to jerk out of it, but he keeps the arm still, using his strength alone. She looks up at him with red watery eyes, cheeks moist.

"Let go." She sniffles.

"No." She keeps wriggling, only to shove him hard in the chest and jump away. He grabs her again and wraps his arms around her, pressing her back into him.

"Stop." She stops struggling and cries in earnest. He turns her around so she's facing him and gathers her close to his chest. The crying goes on a long time; she curses until her voice goes hoarse, clutches at his tunic so hard it leaves scratches on his stomach, and snots through layers of fabric.

He just holds her, strokes her hair, and whispers nonsense that he thinks up in the moment. She seems to calm down because of it. He likes the way it feels to be able to do that. He likes that she lets him comfort her.

A twig snaps nearby and they both look over. It's Tom, standing in the path, looking sheepish. Arya looks away, hiding her face from the light. Gendry knows one thing for sure about his new wife, she hates showing weakness. Would have to be on her deathbed, maybe not even then, to admit it. He feels even more protective of her, and rather annoyed with the Minstrel.

"What is it?" He asks.

"The men want to know how much longer. Hot Pie wants to take a nap if you're still gonna be a while." He gets out in a rush.

"We'll camp here tonight. Go tell them." He doesn't move but looks relieved.

"Good. But what about the soldiers with the supplies? Shouldn't we inform them of our position, somehow we got off the main road." He says pointedly. Fuck, the supply train

"Yes, would you mind?" She asks. She's come up to Tom and Gendry, her face is still red and puffy, but her grey eyes seem to have dried out. Her head is held impossibly high.

"Yes, of course, My Lady."

"You go too. I'd like to freshen up a bit." She directs to Gendry.

"What? Are you sure?" He pulls a clump of dark hair free from where it was glued to her cheek, plastered with snot. He finds it very endearing.

"Yes. Go, uh start a fire or something. And please send someone over with my saddlebags. Thank you." She is clearly dismissing him, but she smiles at him and he doesn't mind. Impulsively he takes her damaged hand and presses a kiss to the torn flesh of her knuckles. She rolls her eyes but smiles wider before shoving him lightly back in the direction of the trail.

Gendry walks more slowly than he should, and looks back at her a few times, but they make it out to the men to announce their intent to stop for the night. Hot Pie is already asleep. Anguy is out hunting supper and Lommy is taking care of the horses. He tells him to bring the Lady her bags. He only scowls and goes back to the horses who look as exhausted as he feels. They take their two.

He and Tom trudge back the way they came, both unhappy about being back on a horse but suck it up anyway.

"How much did you hear?" Gendry asks.

"Most of it." He tells it true.

"Don't say anything to the others.."

"I won't. It's no one's business. She's been walkin' around like the dead. But she ain't. If anyone deserves to cry, it's her. One o' the saddest stories in Westeros, and that's really sayin' somethin'. They say the Starks is cursed. Maybe so."

"Her whole family. I knew, but I didn't really know, ya know? She seemed so, cold. She said she's killed."

"I don't doubt it. Fierce li'l thing. Pretty. But bad luck. I was worried, ya see. Worried that you'd gone and made the biggest mistake a yo' life."

"Watch it, Tom."

"But. After seein' that. Eh. You'll be fine. I ain't worried no more."

"No?"

"Nah. You're gonna live happily ever after in your big castle and have dozens a babies."

"You know, I was actually believing you, and it was making me feel better. But then you went too far with the last bit. Thanks for your support." He says sarcastically, hitting his friend on the back of the head.

"I'm serious. I'm looking forward to writing the most romantic ballad the Seven Kingdoms have ever known."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, and you should feel honored."

"Definitely. Definitely I do." He says sarcastically. He looks around. "We've been here for a while. Where are they?"

"I dunno. But the tracks don't go past this point, so they couldna passed us."

"Maybe we could leave them a clear trail to follow to come find us?" He was getting more and more anxious to get back to Arya.

"I guess so, why not." Gendry ripped some pieces from his cloak and tied them to trees, leading the way to their camp. It was dangerous, but they were all armed, so he wasn't too concerned. It would be far worse to lose their things.

Back at camp they are sitting round a fire and Hot Pie is roasting rabbits on sticks. Arya sits beside him, splattered in blood.

"What the? What happened?" He goes straight to her and takes her face in his hands, checking her over for injuries, though he sees none.

"Stop stop, I'm fine. I was helping Anguy gut and skin rabbits. I'm a bit out of practice though." She ineffectually wipes at the blood on her neck.

"She's a fair hand with a blade." Hot Pie says as he hands her a wet cloth. She cleans her face and smiles proudly at the praise. Okay, she likes to be told she's good at things, particularly violence.

"Doesn't surprise me much." Gendry says, and she smiles at him too. It was a unique combination, the sweet smile and the blood-spattered pattern dotting her front.

They all ate well and fast, Hot Pie explaining all the herbs he used and in what order. Tom drew the short straw and had to clean the dishes, which he only half-arsed. They waited for the other group, but eventually got so tired they fell asleep. Gendry was surprised when Arya lay down beside him, but glad of it.

"Gendry." She whispered.

"Hmmm?" He encouraged.

"I don't think. I mean with everyone…."

"No, I wasn't. I didn't even think of it to be honest." That was not entirely true. And she snuggles even closer until they're pressed up against each other. He puts his arms around her once more and kisses the top of her head.

"'Night." He says.

"'Night, Gendry."

Author's Note: Review Please. Questions, things you liked, confusion, guesses, deep character insights… Reviews make me write faster.


	7. Follow the Trail

Author's Note: Here is the new chapter. I'm trying to break the story into smaller parts for easier consumption.

Follow the Trail

Arya

The sun is shining brightly when she wakes, and she realizes she can't remember seeing a sunrise from this side of it in quite some time. She's curled up against Gendry, her right leg asleep beneath her, she tries to get up only to feel his arms tighten around her, and she panics. But then he snorts in his sleep, and a rush of affection calms her down. She maneuvers out and up without waking him. He really is a deep sleeper, she's rather surprised he's survived that long. She's still up before the others, well everybody except Hot Pie. He's building up the campfire, which had dwindled down to nearly nothing over the night, he's got all the contents of the food supply bags laid out beside him. By the time she makes it over to him, the tingles in her leg have subsided, and she notices the soreness plaguing her since yesterday has become numb more than anything.

"Mornin', M'lady." Hot Pie greets cheerfully. He was one of the first to forgive her after her difficult behavior the first day. He always had a kind word for her.

"Good morning, Hot Pie. What's for breakfast?"

"Porritch, and some nuts and cinnamon. The trick is you gotta toast the cinnamon…" Well he always had a lot of words, and he would say them to whoever was listening.

"And ya gotta have the food ready before the others wake up. It's the key to everybody getting' along." She had tuned out of the conversation, but tried to get back into it.

"Really?" She interjected.

"O' course."

"I'll be back, I'm just gonna." And she motions over to the bushes. He nods and adds water to a pot above the fire, then proceeds to crush up the nuts.

She wants to be tough, able to do anything the men can do. And she can, most things she can do better. But she hates pissing in the woods, and never feels more like the highborn lady that she is while fantasizing about a personal privy or a hot bath. They'd moved well away from the river, and they had to conserve water to keep the men and the horses alive. She had to go without some things, and while she was surviving and would never complain to the men, she did not enjoy the smells emanating off of her. Of course, the men smelled much worse, so she wasn't self-conscious about it or anything.

On the way back to camp, she finds some Sweet Bear Berries, and gathers a bunch in her hands to bring back. Back at camp the men were already up, Gendry just barely. He was sitting up on their shared pallet, looking around. When he sees her reentering camp he breaks out into a full smile, and she smiles shyly back. She brings the berries over to Hot Pie who looks like it's his Name Day when he sees them, cheering her immediately. She winces when he throws them in without a wash, but decides not to say anything. She'll make sure to deal with such matters personally next time.

"Mornin' Milady." Tom and Anguy greet, still yawning and stretching respectively.

"Good morning." She'll have to get them to stop calling her that somehow. Or she'll have to live with it.

Gendry comes up and kisses her head. "Morning."

"Good morning." Arya agrees.

"Morning." Lommy says, though makes a point not to look at her. The other two look at each other, then her, then away. So someone else notices, it's not just her.

Gendry grabs his porridge, but doesn't say anything. The others do the same.

Last night Lommy had brought her her bag, he'd thrown it down on the ground roughly and left without a word.

She was determined to get to the bottom of it now. So when he wandered off away from the group, she followed him.

"Look, perhaps we got off on the wrong foot."

"Do you really care what I think, Milady?" His shoulder length wavy hair blowing in the wind.

"I do."

"I don't serve you, girl."

"Why are you here?"

"I came to take a piss, but you insisted on following me."

"I meant, what are you doing riding with us?"

"Gendry." Is all he says.

"You're loyal to him."

"Of course I am." He looks hurt that anyone would even question it.

"That's good. He'll need that. Look after him then. That's your job. You needn't serve me. Fair?" He just looks at her, eyebrows scrunched. After many moments he nods. Satisfied, she rejoins the group.

Lommy ignored her upon his return, and she couldn't help but be fascinated by his dislike. Did he just resent women? Many men could not or would not take orders from a woman. If that was the case, she was definitely annoyed. Maybe he just thought she was a brat. Fair enough. But he obviously cared for Gendry, and the new lord would need all the true friends he could get where they were going.

If last night had shown her anything about Gendry, it was that he lacked the guile to run a holdfast. He was sweet, caring, kind, and sympathetic. But he gave in too easily, and he didn't take as much offense as he should to being insulted. With her own two eyes she'd seen what an overabundance of honor might reap.

She worried he would be eaten alive, and worried further what Lord Stannis would make of him when they next crossed paths. She felt guilty for being concerned, but they needed those 500 men. Her brother had called all their bannermen to fight, and they'd lost most. The land needed lords, ladies, guards, soldiers, builders, farmers, merchants, maesters,… they just needed bodies. People to live. Theon had managed to ruin her home before disappearing, many people scattered or were killed, and the stones needed to be set to rights. When she found that fucking Greyjoy she would make him suffer, and find out once and for all what he'd done to her brothers. And, there were stories of disturbances from the Wall. She'd heard all sorts of things, but nothing firsthand, some of it contradictory. It had been years since she received a letter from Jon, and she feared the worst. The Stark words, 'Winter is Coming.' She knew better than to assume the danger had passed.

Where were the remaining soldiers in the party? She was becoming concerned. All their valuables, clothes, and extra foodstuffs were amongst them. Her face fell as she realized.

Her father's bones were with them.

She told the soldiers to take great care of the precious cargo, and had believed their vows. And now, she didn't know what to think.

Even though she hadn't mentioned the bones to him, one look at her face had Gendry deciding they should go look for the men. He suggested she stay there, but she insisted on coming. They followed their own tracks back until they found where another set veered off. They ended up going round in circles for hours, signs of a struggle. She was getting flustered and stressed. She had to fight down the urge to bark at the others, knowing none of them were at fault.

"We shouldna gone off the road." Lommy pointed out.

"And they should have been able to follow our trail." She countered.

"It's true. These tracks are very strange. Something off happened here." Anguy interjected.

"Well, what are we gonna do?" Hot Pie asked, more than a little nervous.

"Well. Let's see what we got. Then we'll figure out the next move." Gendry said first. It was actually a good pragmatic move, and she was proud of him. They settled once more to make camp, not far from the odd scene of the diverging prints, emptied the saddlebags, including hers, and took inventory. The had an extra set of clothes each, Arya's was a dress, to her dismay, their swords, Anguy his bow, Arya her blade and some special soap from Essos, a full package of spices from Hot Pie, oats, jerky, water, and more dried fruit. They had a fair amount of money between them, but things would be tight on their travels, and there would be no luxuries on this trip.

They were all disheartened, none more so than Arya. She was meant to take the bones home, to bury him in the crypt, where Starks belonged. Gendry apologized profusely, completely undoing the progress he'd made by taking charge earlier. She waved away his apology, it was hardly his fault, and she was still contemplating if it was hers. Lommy seemed to think it was. Anguy and Tom didn't have an opinion. And Gendry seemed to blame himself.

"At least we still have some of the food. It's actually a bit like the olden days. Remember Lom? Remember Gendry?" She wasn't paying any attention. She barely noticed when Gendry put a blanket around her shoulders and led her down to the ground, wrapping his arms around her and telling her to sleep. And she obeyed.

She dreamt of her father's bones scattered along the road, being gnawed on by animals, bandits pissing on them while laughing, and Ned Stark's ghost wandering the land, hollow and lost. He'd looked her right in the eyes, then turned away. She thought about calling out to him, but could think of nothing to say.

Author's Note: Next up- Gendry and Arya get to know each other better. This will be cute and less angsty. Should be up tomorrow, it's practically ready. Review!


	8. A Better Foot

Author's Note: Awww, So cute. A little long, but I couldn't help it. Also, thanks to you reviewers, keep reading.

A Better Foot

Arya

The next morning, Arya awoke grumpy, but was determined not to take it out on anyone. Gendry was dead to the world, and it was easy to slip out again. She grabbed her bag and went to the bushes, tying a handkerchief to a branch so no one came looking for her. It was a system the boys had arranged, way back in the Brotherhood days, in order to travel together without killing each other. Don't come looking but don't worry. She quite liked the idea, though she suspected Tom made it up so he could go off and 'relieve' himself. He was always more cheerful after, humming or whistling. So she was glad of it. She personally was having a bad morning with the hard tack from the night before and did not want to be disturbed. In her bag she had only a dress left, and she debated if it would be worth it to wear something clean. Yes, she decided.

She stripped off the pants and tunic and stuffed them into the bottom of her bag. She saw some nice smelling leaves, mint she recognized, squished them in her palms and rubbed them underneath her arms and between her legs. The water was actually a bit low at this point, and she wouldn't be as selfish as all that. This wasn't technically an emergency. The dress was at least a comfortable one, light, a forest green. She could move her arms and shoulders, but the skirt was a little tight around the knees, and would make it difficult to ride the normal way. For she had decided, they must move on. She took her blade and slit the sides to mid thigh, making sure she could move in all directions. There. Done and done. Her mother always wanted her to be a lady, and now she would have to be, but a different kind. The oily feel of her hair against her skin motivated her try a more intricate braid to get the little pieces upfront. She could feel dark strands sticking out here and there, but oh well.

The others still aren't up, only Hot Pie. Upon seeing her his mouth drops open.

"Not one word." She warns. He just smiles. "Milady." She rolls her eyes.

Anguy wakes up a good ten minutes later, and when he sees her he says, "… by the Gods." Hand to his heart. Ass.

Gendry and Tom wake up at this very loud exclamation and stare as well. She gets defensive.

"It's all I had that was clean. Okay, what's the plan, what are we doing?" She gets down to business. Taking suggestions. Gendry sits down beside her, and she leans into him a bit, not really conscious of it.

"Depends on what you want to do. But there's no sign a the men or the cargo." Tom says carefully.

"Gendry?" She questions. He looks surprised for a second.

"We're running low on supplies, I think that should be a priority." Good, her thoughts exactly. She gets purposefully to her feet.

"We're low on water too." Hot Pie adds.

"Then we'll continue on and cut our losses. We'll stop at the next village we see." She can't afford to let deadweight tie her down.

"'Cept there ain't no towns for leagues away. We're still in the Flats." Lommy points out.

"Aye. True. But. Not more'n a day's ride away to the Peach." Tom says with a grin from ear to ear.

"No. No. Absolutely not."

"What why?" She asks.

"Come on Gen, be reasonable. We been riding fer days, and before that fightin' fer Stannis. We ain't had a fair bit o' fun in a while. We can't just pass through the Flats without visitin' the girls. You ain't thinkin' man." Anguy explains thoughtfully.

"What's this?" Arya insists. They ignore her.

Gendry grabs Anguy by his tunic. "I'm not taking my new lady wife to a brothel. I can't believe you would even suggest that." Anguy holds up his hands in surrender.

"A whorehouse?" Arya finally says.

"Well, yes." Hot Pie admits.

"But we're not going there. Don't worry." Gendry assures her.

Arya sighs, men.

"Do they have clean, soft beds?" She inquires.

"Aye." Tom says, encouraged.

"And hot baths?" He nods. "Good food?"

"Oh yes. The Peach is all that and so much more." Tom answers with deepest sincerity.

"Let's go." She announces before patting her horse on its nose.

"Arya, are you serious? You're a lady, you can't…" Gendry starts.

"Of course I can. This is our only viable option. Are you seriously worried about my delicate sensibilities?" She teases him.

"No, I guess not."

They clean up very quickly. The men all-eager to get to the Peach. Tom is singing in anticipation, Anguy is describing a particular girl to an uninterested Lommy, who is also ignoring Hot Pie, while he describes the buttery biscuits they'll have when they get there.

When she mounts her horse, the slits on her dress splay open, displaying most of her legs, letting her sit properly. "I'll not ride sidesaddle ever again." She gives by way of explanation.

Gendry takes one look and bursts out laughing. If the others notice they wisely say nothing.

"You really are strange, ya know that?" He's still grinning.

"Of course I am. Are you just figuring that out? Maybe you are a bit slow." But she has a smile on her face to show she is joking.

"No, I could tell you were different, right from the first. Not a proper Lady. You don't much hide it."

"I can be though, in a fashion."

"You stabbed a knife into the dinner table."

"Well. Stannis needed to be taken down a peg. I stand by the sentiment."

"Don't get me wrong, I think it's brilliant. The look on Stannis' face when you threatened him. That one," And he taps his head. "I'm gonna remember for ages." She laughs. "He respects you though. I could tell." That's news to her.

"You think he respects me? There were 20 men. Where did they run off to? How do I know this wasn't Stannis' doing?"

"He wouldn't. He keeps his word, he doesn't have it in him not to."

"Unless he's vague on the terms in the first place."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing. No one hands you what you want, you take it."

"I'll make sure he keeps his word to you Arya, I promise." And he does look intent.

"Good. I will take you at your word then." She'll have to.

"He promised. I will make sure it is done. He is my uncle. He can't ignore me forever."

"You don't get along, do you? You and Stannis." They're riding at a comfortable pace.

"I think he's disappointed in me. I'm a Baratheon, but just barely. Dirty blood they say, born in lust, given to base urges." She makes a 'pfft' noise through her teeth.

"Right. They used to say the same thing about Jon. Idiots. He never said a bad word against anyone, always worked hard but they all looked down on him. My mother worst of all. But he was my favorite brother."

"He died too?"

"I don't know. I sent letters, but I never heard back. He went to The Wall, thought it'd be noble. And now, the stories I hear, about the Others, I can only assume the worst."

"Don't say that."

"I wanted to go, you know, to The Wall. To see him. Maybe even join."

"They don't take women."

"Well, I would have made them change their minds. I thought about it, but in the end, I decided to do my duty. Home first. Settle the land, restore the family. Maybe one day, I could go see, but for now, I have to be a lady. For my family's sake, in their memory."

"But a lady who sneaks into stranger's rooms, skins rabbits, curses like a Dock Worker, and rips up her dresses. I've never seen your like before, and I've been through most of Westeros by now."

"I'm of the North." She says proudly.

"I don't think there are girls like you up there either."

"Maybe not." She smirks. "I used to make my mother crazy."

"I'll bet." He looks interested, so she keeps going.

"One time, we were meant to meet the King. Your father. And Mother insisted I look pretty, wear a nice dress, be clean, curtsy, say my courtesies, and all that. Well, you can guess what happened." As though it was obvious.

"No, what?"

"I spent the whole morning riding, I got back late with my dress splattered in mud and a helmet on my head."

"You didn't."

"I did. I rode right up to the King and Queen, dismounted, and got into place without apology."

"And what did Robert do?" It was the first time he'd called him by name, if not Father.

"He laughed. He liked me." She left out how much.

"Of course he did. Why wouldn't he?"

"Well, according to my mother I was a devil child, sure to be cursed with a daughter twice as bad."

"I don't doubt it." He jokes.

"I do remember what she taught me though. In a way I'm even grateful. I'll need it when I take the seat of The North. I'll need to be my father and my mother. And I will."

"I don't doubt it. You'll make a good Lord. I'm happy to let you make all the decisions." He says, and she can't tell if he's serious or not.

"I can't argue with that strategy." She realizes she knows very little about him.

"What about you? Were you a well-behaved child?"

"Aye. I had to be though. You gotta keep your head down, do your work, or else yor out on yer ear. But I had a place to sleep, food to eat, a trade, I was better off than most." His accent becomes more pronounced whenever he speaks of his home.

"You're from King's Landing right?"

"Aye. Fleabottom. Street of Steel. Born and bred." He looks down at that.

"And you were good at your trade." It's not a question, she's sure of it.

"I was. I was dedicated. It was my whole life."

"You made swords and armor?"

"Aye. And shields, helms, keys, chains, engravings, and the like."

"Really? So you're a real craftsman, then." She appraises.

"I dunno about that. Just an apprentice. Next I would have learned how to reforge Valyrian Steel. But, well."

"But you were sent to join The Wall."

"Aye. My master just said I should pack up and go, that I must join The Watch. I thought he was just sick o' me. Now I know he was tryin' to protect me. The Goldcloaks killed him tryin' to find me. I owe 'im a lot."

"What was his name?"

"Tobho Mott. He near raised me after my mum died. He was a good man."

"He kept you alive. He died an honorable death. His name shall be said with reverence."

"I'm not sure what that means."

"It means, we will speak of him well. Did he have other family, perhaps we could provide for them once we're settled."

"I… Thank you. Yeah. We could do that. Provide for them… It just sounds so strange. Like when someone calls me Milord, or the men look to me, or you being my wife. It's weird. I keep wanting to turn around and check you're all not looking at someone behind me." This was the first time he'd ever mentioned his discomfort with the forced arrangement.

"To go from Fleabottom to the Lord of a great house, that's no small thing. It must be disconcerting." She brings up gently.

"I didn't work for this. I didn't earn it. All of it just sort of happened. Now I'm a Lord, with a wife, and a hall, a family, or parts of one, or almost one. It's unbelievable is what it is."

"The Old Gods work in unknowable ways. You're here for a reason, figure out what you're meant to do with it." He stares at her then. Too long.

"I don't worship the Old Gods."

"Oh yes. You believe in The Red God, like your uncle."

"I've seen things. Things I wish I hadn't. I believe."

"What things?"

"I've seen a man brought back from the dead, more than once."

"From the dead?"

"Yes."

"And he was human? Himself?"

"I dunno really. I never knew him before. But he said, he felt… less."

"Could Your God bring anybody back?" Without even his bones?

"I don't think it works like that."

"Oh."

"What about your Old Gods. What are they like?"

"They. They're everywhere. Especially in the trees. " He looks closely at a tree they pass. "We even have sacred land, called The Weirwood, with Heart Trees. It's where you go to speak with the Gods, ancestors, find peace."

"Your Gods sound nicer."

"No. Don't be fooled. The Old Gods are cruel, they take as well. They take more than you can spare."

"Still. I wanna see those trees."

"Alright." He's staring at her again.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"No. What?" He laughs.

"Why are you yelling?"

"I'm not yelling. You're staring at me."

"I'm not allowed to look at you?"

"I guess so. But stop laughing."

"I am not laughing at you." Though he's holding back a chuckle. "I just like to get you upset."

"Why?"

"Because you get all flustered, and your nostrils flare out, and sometimes I swear I can even see steam come out your ears. It find it oddly appealing."

She hits him from her horse, having to lean a bit in order to reach him.

"Ow." He exaggerates, still chuckling.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you what happens when you play with fire?"

"I _was_ a blacksmith." She 'humphs' at his wit and nudges her horse faster. He just keeps laughing.

"Oh come on. Forgive me. Please."

"You're becoming quite the highborn ass."

"How about another deal? I won't call you Milady, if you promise to answer me one question." She's intrigued.

"Well what's the question?"

"Ah aha ah ah. You don't get to know the question beforehand. That's the rule."

Damnit.

"Fine." He knew she would agree.

"Alright." He's drawing it out. Maybe this was a mistake. "You said you had to get married, for Winterfell. There were other offers. Who were they?" She's taken aback.

"That's what you want to know?"

"That's my question."

"Gods. You really are terrible at negotiations."

"Oh good. More tips. I do enjoy your kernels of wisdom." He's enjoying this.

"You admitted I would make a terrific Lord."

"That's true actually. But you still didn't answer my question."

"What was the question? Sorry I forgot."

"Your other potential husbands." He says, a little too patiently.

"All of them, or just the four serious contenders?" She asks without a hint of irony.

"How many were there?"

She shrugs. "Not sure. The war killed half of Westeros, half of those were noble born. Pickings are slim. There are many who would like to get their hands on The North."

"Like who?"

"Well, Highgarden, Loras Tyrell."

"What? But everyone knows he's…"

"There were worse options, believe me. Who else. Dayne, of Starfell."

"Ned?"

"Yes. Do you know him?"

"Yeah, I do. Or, I did."

"Dull." She comments. And he loosens his grip on the reins.

"Hah. True."

"They tried to marry me off to my cousin in the Vale, sickly and weird. Lord Manderlay, honorable friend of my father, but old and fat. Tyrion…"

"Tyrion? The Imp?"

"Don't call him that. He's a good friend. And a good man. He can't help who his family is."

"You're right. I'm sorry. It's just, hard to picture."

"I can think of a lot worse lives. But even so, I'd rather die a thousand deaths than become a Lannister. He barely counts as one all the same."

"I suppose the most serious option was Aegon."

"Aegon?"

"Yeah, Dany's nephew. A hidden Targaryan. They switched him at birth so Robert couldn't kill him. He really wanted to marry me, said he was in love with me."

"Really?" He looks very uncomfortable.

"But I said no. He had a real claim to the throne, and I wanted no part in that. Anyways, it turned out he wasn't really a Targaryan, so it was all for nothing."

"He loved you?" She rolls her eyes.

"Of course not. He didn't know me at all. He was arrogant and reckless; a stranger."

"You did like him."

"A bit. Like I said he was arrogant and reckless. But I didn't want to marry him. Any of them, I didn't want to marry at all."

"And I was the best choice?" He's grinning like an idiot.

"Well. You were the least horrible choice."

"Thank you, truly."

"What about you? Weren't you a little old to be unmarried?"

"Well Stannis just legitimized me, I could hardly wed a proper lady."

"Well, what about other girls? You didn't want to marry anyone else?" Why had this never occurred to her before?

"No."

"How old are you?"

"Not quite sure really. But I'm older than you."

"Not sure? You don't know?" She slows her horse down, and he matches her pace.

"Never really figured. Maybe 20 name days, more or less."

"More or less? Hmmmm." And she looks him over closely. He has black hair, a full head of it. Those eyes, crisp and clear, bright. He has some stubble on his stark cheekbones just after the few days on the road, and she decides he must be young. And those chamber girls were right, he is handsome. He pulls on his ear under her gaze and looks a bit pink.

"I'd say 21, 22. Something like that." And she returns her attention back to the road.

"I don't feel like it. I feel 80 at least."

"Still. On our wedding night, you told me you had been with other women. You didn't want to marry any of them?"

"No. I…" He scratches at the back of his neck.

"Is that why you didn't want me going to the Peach? You don't want me running into one of your whores?"

"What?! No! What?"

"Really?" She lifts one eyebrow in disbelief then studies him.

"Yes. Really." He was actually displaying none of the most typical tells that she could see. Arya prided herself on being able to read people. Gendry was open, couldn't hide anything in his face yet. Or, he was even better than she knew.

"No. I didn't. I wouldn't." She believed him. But she won't back down, he likes teasing her, well it could go both ways.

"It's okay, Gendry. I know you had a life before me. It doesn't bother me. I would however expect you not to partake on this particular instance." He looks bewildered.

"What? No. I wouldn't." She takes pity on him.

"Never mind. I believe you."

"I'm sorry about the men and the trunks." My father's bones, she thought. No, don't dwell.

"If you keep apologizing every time anything goes wrong, people will start to assume it's your fault. Don't let them. You're a Lord now. If you don't know something, you just lie and pretend you do. If something goes wrong, you take responsibility, but you move on. If you want something, take it." She feels guilty for making him self-conscious with her, but he must learn.

"More Lordly lessons? You're like Ser Davos. Can't go five minutes without spouting riddles." He seems annoyed. She decides she prefers him bristly than complacent.

"You asked for my help remember?"

"Well, yeah I did. I just didn't think you meant to point out every mistake I make all the time. I am a man, Arya. Tell me how disappointing I am often enough, and I'll take you at your word."

"I… you're right. I'm sorry." She says sincerely.

"Now don't apologize, that's not very Lordly." He jokes but with an edge.

"And you're not disappointing me. Or you haven't, yet." He lets out a breath.

"I've got no clue what I'm doing. They say, 'go here' I go. 'Do this' I do it. I'm supposed to be a Lord, but I can't change what I am, where I come from."

She says a silent prayer to the Old Gods and the bones of her father, wherever they are, that what he says remains true. That the pressure of leading, or her nudging, or his uncle, doesn't ruin him, doesn't make him like all the other snooty lords she's known.

"I hope that's true. I like you better this way." He smiles then, the skin near his eyes wrinkling in delight.

"And I like you better this way." She gives him a side eye but he just chuckles. "Even though you're telling me what a terrible lord I am, calling me names, insulting me, you've just admitted you don't hate me. We're getting off on a better foot now, My Lady."

"Well it won't be a better foot for long if you don't stop calling me that."

"Maybe. New deal, if you promise not to correct me for a full five minutes, I'll stop for good, promise."

"Deal." Give and take. He's starting to get the idea, begrudgingly.

"But you really should have requested at least an hour." She jests.

He laughs heartily.

Author's Note: Next up- The Peach. Might be a bit sexier, but still nothing too explicit. They're getting to know each other and starting to feel comfortable. Review Please!


	9. A whorehouse of a Different Color

Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews. I really appreciate them. Okay, so this one was even longer than I thought. I'm trying a new thing where I post shorter chapters. This way, updates are more frequent and more accessible. However, they won't be quite as action-packed. Let me know if you like it this way or if you prefer longer, eventful chapters. Thanks.

A Whorehouse of a Different Color

Gendry

It was full on dark by the time they reached the brothel, and the music was in full-swing, booming through the front doors. It was a surprisingly nice place, decently sized with a number of private rooms, a spacious main salon, and a large kitchen. The men were overly excited, but Gendry himself was anxious. Despite Arya's acceptance of the place, he was not reassured; he shouldn't be bringing her here. She is a Lady, no matter how much she pretends otherwise, and his wife besides. What manner of Lord would bring his new bride to a whorehouse?

He looks over to see how she's reacting, and she seems fine, if a little distant. They all dismount, the men faster than ever before, and walk up to the door.

Delia answers with screams and hugs Tom and Anguy to her ample bosom. Tom grabs a large chunk of her ass, and they all laugh together. Even Gendry finds himself smiling at their antics. Hot Pie says hi before shoving past, and Lommy looks a bit uncomfortable off to the side before following with a nod. At least Gendry's not the only one.

"Welcome, welcome boys. Where the hell have you all been all this time?" Delia had run the Peach for some time. In her late 40s, Delia was done whoring, and used her organizational skills and business savvy to take over The Peach and run it well. Through her graying hair and wrinkled forehead, you could still see the stunning woman she must have been.

"Important business, Delia. The only possible reason to stay away." Anguy said, not able to keep a straight face, or his eyes from the interior.

"Well, we're back now. So no fear." Tom comments.

"Get in, the lot of you." She looks over at Arya surprised. Tom and Anguy rush in, and Delia moves aside before grasping Gendry.

"Oh, Gendry, my boy. Look at you. All grown, and so handsome." He laughs uncomfortably.

"Hey, Delia." He says blushing, looking back and forth between her and Arya.

"So delicious. And who is this?" She's looking back at Arya with keen interest.

"This is…" Why isn't he saying anything?

"It's a pleasure to meet you, uh, Delia. My name is Arya." Delia is surprised at Arya's formal tone, but is pleased.

"And you, Milady." Ah, Delia is quick. Now or never.

"This is my wife, Lady Arya." It is impossible to tell if Arya is glad or not. Surprised, definitely, if the look on her face is anything to go by.

"What?!" And she laughs, and hugs the both of them too. "Married? Oh my oh my. Haha. Adorable. And to a fine lady. Congratulations…" And she will keep talking if she isn't interrupted.

"Thank you, Delia. We were hoping for something to eat, a nice room." Gendry starts.

"Oh and I would be eternally grateful for a hot bath." Arya finishes with a friendly smile. He's proud of how kind she is to the aging Madame.

"Of course, of course. Here, let's get some food in your bellies." Delia leads them inside and towards the dining room.

"Actually, I would really prefer to freshen up first, if you don't mind." Arya insists politely.

Delia pauses her pushing, and then nods in understanding after looking her over thoroughly. She pulls another girl, brown curly hair, hazel eyes, and incredible curves by the arm from where she's walking, and drags her closer.

"Merilee, dear. Please make sure you attend to our guest. Whatever she needs."

"Of course, Delia." She answers after assessing the situation with clever eyes, and his wife disappears upstairs as Delia drags him over to the others.

It really is a nice place, and he feels immediately warmer as he gets closer to the fire in the modest kitchen. Tom and Anguy are busy eating at a large table and staring at prominently displayed cleavage before them. Hot Pie and Lommy are eating and drinking ale, the former smiling at Cherise and the latter ignoring Bella.

The girls see him and jump out of their seats to greet him.

"Gendry!" They each exclaim and run up to him, Tom looks particularly disappointed. Leera even plants wet kisses on his cheek as he tries to shove her off.

"Everyone. Listen up. Our little Gendry went and got married. She's upstairs now." The whores seem angry for a second, whining and asking why not them. But eventually they giggle and congratulate him, and keep kissing him. Bella gets way too close, and it's only Delia who manages to get him free and lead him over to the table. Tom laughs at him, but goes back to his stew. Hot Pie had never even looked up. The girls sit down once again, clinging to the others, but leave Gendry be. They tease him and taunt him, uncover their breasts, and laugh at the shades of red he turns.

"I'll need another bowl for Arya." He requests. He kept thinking she would come down, but he realized she was probably hiding from the spectacle downstairs. Of course. And he was glad. Very glad that she hadn't witnessed the prostitutes attacking him, she might get the wrong idea. Her questions earlier had worried him.

"Yeah, I'll bet you will." Anguy jokes.

"Hah." Hot Pie sputters out a bit of his food.

"Leave him be. He's a good lad. And they're newlyweds who haven't had a night's privacy since they wed. Food'll be the last thing." Tom ends with a laugh, and the girls all snicker in agreement.

"Shut up." Gendry says through a mouthful of stew-soaked bread.

"Oh go on then. Never keep a woman waiting." Bella teases. As he looks at her, he notices the black hair and blue eyes, eyes he sees in the mirror.

"Bet he doesn't even know where to put it." Leera remarks loudly, pretty pink lips quirking upward.

"O' course he does." Lommy defends.

"Actually, Lad, I do wonder. Need a few pointers?" Tom adds with a raised eyebrow.

"For fucksakes! What'd I ever do to you?" Gendry asks exasperated.

"Now, now Boy. Only a fool turns down good advice." Delia advises with a mischievous grin.

"The poor girl is miserable, I can tell that clear enough. He's doin' somethin' wrong." Anguy says, having completely finished his dinner in record time, now running his fingers down Leera's arm.

"By the Gods." Gendry groans in embarrassment and shame.

"Well girls, let's give him some tips." Cherise suggests, overly plump cheeks lifted in amusement.

"What are you doing with your tongue?" Bella asks.

"Where do you put your elbows?" Leera adds.

"Have you tried…" Cherise starts.

"Enough. Stop." Gendry gets up from the table angrily. Tom pulls him back down.

"Enough ladies. Give us a sec." He kisses Bella on the lips and pushes her away. He has to grab Leera by the skirt and drag her off, shoving her up and away. "Delia…" And they all scurry off in a huff, presumably to wait in the next room. Hot Pie looks sad to see them go, but starts in on the second helping he's just received. Lommy continues his silent streak, except for the notable exception of standing up for him earlier.

"Look Lad, it's nothing to get upset about. We know you're honorable. We don't mean nothin'." Tom says.

"Too honorable. He's been practically a monk. No wonder." Anguy cuts in.

"Yeah. I mean we all know you only ever been with M…" Tom suggests.

"Don't say her name!" Gendry insists, more angrily than he intended. The soulless redhead is the last thing he needs to think about.

"Sorry Lad. I'm only saying, your fumbling is understandable." Tom appeases poorly.

"Just get her good and oiled first, that's all." Anguy adds, taking a long drag of ale.

"Oiled?" Hot Pie asks.

"Yeah, ready, slick, you know." Anguy clarifies.

"Sweaty?" Hot Pie comments before he can think better of it. Anguy starts laughing involuntarily, and Tom smacks him upside the head.

"Oh shut up. I remember when you didn't know your ass end from your elbow. Now listen, you take care of her first, and then, then you..." Tom says simply, unable to come up with the right words.

"Then what?" Hot Pie asks.

"That's enough storytelling." Lommy interjects.

"He needs to hear this. If he wants a chance at a happy marriage, and us a pleasant journey, he'll listen to what we have to say." Anguy comments, more serious since Tom's scolding.

"I don't think I can make her happy. In fact I'm sure of it." Gendry whines, feeling a bit sorry for himself and eyeing the drink Anguy is swilling with interest. Gendry doesn't drink, too aware of his own father's weaknesses. He hates comparisons between them, wants nothing more than to be separate himself from the fat drunken king's memory. But another part of him remembers the blissful oblivion of booze, and craves it even now, for courage.

"You've only been married a couple days, with no time to yourselves, and all this pressure. Besides, no one's perfect their first time painting a portrait or composing a sonnet. Just get up there, and try your best." Tom assures him.

"I don't think. I don't think she wants me to touch her." Gendry admits, looking down and feeling a chilled sweat gathering on the back of his neck.

Tom and Anguy share a pained look.

"She's been through rough times that one, lost everything. She won't make it easy on ya. But if ya wanted easy, you wouldn'ta become a Lord and married a proper Lady, would ya? But you did, and she is, and now you are. So you can't just give up on her, on everything." Anguy bolsters him.

"I won't. I'm not. I just… Maybe it won't be like that, for us. I mean, that happens sometimes, right?" Gendry rationalizes.

"My parents were strange. They'd fight all the time. She'd say he was lazy with no head for numbers, he'd say she was fat and bitter as a crab apple. Sometimes they'd even throw things at each other; dough, plates, pots, even a cat once. But then they'd always make up and have loud, obnoxious sex in the other room. I heard everything. Very scarring. But, I think they loved each other. Maybe hated each other a bit too. But, it was love all the same." Hot Pie adds his own unique insight, a tad nostalgic.

"See Lad, it takes all kinds." Tom jokes. "Now get up there, never keep a woman waiting."

Gendry leaves in a hurry, anxious to get away from their 'helpful' advice, not sure if he actually feels better or not. He knows his friends are honestly trying to help him, at his own expense, but he doesn't really know what to believe. Tom is older, more experienced, and possibly wiser, but he's never been married. Anguy either, though he does seem to possess a rare insight into his wife's mind, one he is a bit jealous of. That night he saw Arya splattered in blood amidst the rabbit carcasses, was the first time he'd ever seen her smile, and it wasn't down to Gendry. Anguy served her grandfather, and that meant something to her.

Actually, it's Hot Pie's story that gives him the most hope; it takes all kinds he supposes.

He grabs some stew for Arya and a big hunk of bread. He even has a pitcher of water clenched in his armpit, in case Arya is thirsty.

"Now wait a minute Boy, you're not plannin' on seein' to your lovely wife like that are you?" At his lack of response she simply rolls her eyes and grabs him once more, this time leading him to a washroom. "We'll get ya gleamin' so pretty she won't know what hit her."

She deftly plucks the food items from his arms and places them to the side, before stripping his shirt. He tried to object, but she'd done it before he even knew what was happening. She was obviously quite skilled. He did manage to shove her away before she could strip anything else. She laughs good naturedly, and hands him the soap then points to the washbasin.

"Don't listen to them. They're not half as skilled as they think they are." He hears over the sound of water splashing over his ears.

"Didn't Tom say to leave us be? It's rude to listen in, ya know." He remarks.

"And I said that only fools ignore good advice. So listen up, I'm trying to help you." And she offers nothing more, waiting for him to decide. While scrubbing out his armpits, he decides.

"I guess you have some advice for me then?"

"Well. I need to know where to start, don't I then. How's it been so far?"

"What do you… Not much. Once. On our wedding night, but…" He's too embarrassed to even continue.

"Mhm. And she was untouched, then?" She's very understanding.

"Yes." He's remembering the blood, the way she'd turned away from him that night.

"And those highborns, so careful about those things. Probably frightened, closed up tighter than a drum. It's painful you know, for us women."

"I didn't want to hurt her, but she insisted, and it was so fast… She's the most stubborn person I ever met." He rubs his hand down his face.

"Oh dear." She comments. He lets out a huff of agreement at that.

"What if… What if she doesn't like it, doesn't want, you know? I mean, that happens sometimes right? Most women don't care for it." He reasons.

"Oh, we all like it well enough. But we like different things. Most times men haven't a clue." She suggests helpfully.

"Like what? What different things?" He asks reluctantly, not looking at her, concentrating on combing his hair.

"We haven't got all night, Sweetie. And I don't know her, so I can't guess. But I did see, when I hugged you, she didn't like it." She says with a knowing smirk.

"What? But I didn't… I haven't…"

"I know that. But she doesn't. She was jealous, sure enough, and that's a good sign." He smiles a bit at that, surprised.

"It's not hopeless. That much I know. A little patience and it will all come to rights." He remembers then the nights in the woods, holding her under their blanket beneath the stars. She had let him, but it wasn't all that promising.

"Patience? She's upstairs hiding from me. No amount of time is gonna change that."

"Not hiding. Waiting. Just… listen, pay attention, that's all you can do. Women are complicated, but we're pretty consistent. We want men who try, who pay attention, who listen. Also the fact that you are delicious doesn't hurt." She says, running her eyes over his bare chest before holding out a new shirt. He shakes his head as he puts on the clean black shirt, way too big.

"Whose is this?" He wonders idly.

"Your father's."

"Delia…"

"I've got eyes, Gendry. And he came here a few times. I knew him well. But I'll tell you, you aren't much like him. Not much at all. You're one of those men all us whores hope to find, the kind meant to see past the whoring and take us away. Petty fantasies. She's lucky, and if she doesn't see that, it's her problem, not yours." She puts her palm on his cheek, and he feels for a moment like he's being comforted by his mother.

"Thank you."

"Go on, before I jump on you myself."

Cleaner, or at least fresher smelling, he picks the food back up and continues on.

He begins to walk up the steps, when Lommy blocks his path.

Hot Pie, Tom, and Anguy haven't treated him much differently from when they first met, if tonight was any indication, then they were more comfortable around him than ever. It was Lommy, one of his oldest friends along with Hot Pie, who was the most distant from him. It had started with his legitimization and only gotten worse with his marriage. He was sorry for the state of their friendship, but he was sure it wasn't anything he could help, and besides, he had been quite occupied with surviving Arya.

"Lommy." He greeted, trying to go around.

"Gendry, wait. I just…" His light blue eyes look away from Gendry's own darker ones, unsure, shy.

"What?" Gendry prods gently.

"I don't like her." He states.

"Not now, Lommy." And he makes to push past.

"But, it doesn't really matter if I like her, just that you do. And she you. And she does care about you, I know she does. Or she's starting to. How could she not?" Gendry feels touched by Lommy's concern.

"You're a good friend, Lommy." He puts his hand on Lommy's shoulder in affection, and Lommy gives him a bittersweet smile in return before moving aside to let him pass. It seemed they were on better terms, and he was glad for it.

As he carefully ascends the stairs, bowl and pitcher balanced carefully to avoid spillage, his thoughts return to the lovely and difficult wolf he'd married.

The first moment he'd seen her, he'd been completely captivated. Beautiful, but doing her best to hide it in pants and a tunic; it had only amplified her attractiveness.

She had taken pity on him with the fork, but then stabbed a knife into the table in retaliation against his uncle. Kind but fierce. Even a tad abrasive. Confident and assured, but in some ways quite innocent. Seemingly wise, but still very young, younger than himself. She was from a noble family, a big family, but even more alone than he was. He may not have the first clue who he is, but he does know what he is meant to do, his purpose, for the first time since leaving Tobho Mott and the forge.

He's meant to look after her, his wife, get her home, and help her fix her home. His home. And while all that was terrifying, he craved it more than anything. He thought- 'If I can look after her, make her happy, I can do anything.' And with that, he shoved the door to their room gently open with his shoulder.

Author's Note: Up Next- My attempts at sexier times. Bare with me, I'm not used to writing more sensual prose. They'll still be tame, but if you feel the story deserves a more adult rating, please let me know. I don't think it will make anyone uncomfortable though if the wedding scene didn't upset you. Review please, it makes me happy, and inspires me to write more.


	10. Whorehouse Continued

Author's Note: Okay guys, I'm really nervous. This is my first attempt at writing something sexier, so please give me honest feedback. I do want to paint a blurry watercolor, and I don't want to be too explicit. I also don't want it to feel forced. I think it works within the context of the story and is necessary to their relationship and the story itself. Somehow it got too long again, oh well. Anyway, enjoy.

Whorehouse Continued

Gendry

As he enters the room he doesn't see her right away. It's a nice room, nicer than any he's stayed in at The Peach before, but then he was just a bastard in The Brotherhood then. There is a big bed, inviting looking, with thick sheets. In the middle is a large tub with intricate feet holding it up. There's even a little desk with creams and girly things set out, a mirror against the wall, and a little chair. The floor creaks beneath his feet, and he sees a dark brown head shoot up out of the tub. He's so startled he almost drops the bowl.

"Oh. Sorry. I'll just…" He'll just what? Stupid. "I'll come back."

"No. Stay." She rushes out, rubbing at her eyes to dry them, wet hair plastered to her head.

"Okay. I mean, if you're sure." But he continues in anyway, slowly.

"It's your room too, after all." He shuts the door behind him.

"I brought you something to eat, I thought you might be hungry." He holds up the food as if she couldn't clearly see it. She smiles a very genuine smile at him.

The tub is quite deep, and he can't actually see anything, well he's trying hard not to. He wants to take things slowly and not have a repeat of their disastrous wedding night. He turns to the little table to set his burdens down, with his back turned he hears the distinctive sound of the water's surface being disturbed, and he focuses intently on a little jar of some sort of goop, he smells it carefully, makes a face, and sets it back down.

"Thank you." She says, and on instinct he looks over his shoulder. She has a towel wrapped around her and is squeezing excess water out of her hair back into the tub. He can see the curve of her waist through the fabric and surprisingly long legs dappled with water droplets. He finds himself hypnotized.

She comes up beside him and reaches for the bread, breaking off a chunk. "How are the others?" She asks conversationally. Eating the chunk quickly, she breaks off another.

"They're good. Tom and Anguy are particularly pleased." She rolls her eyes good-naturedly at that. "But none more so than Hot Pie."

"I'll bet. Finally full, eh?" Water drips down from the ends of her hair down to the tops of her breasts, the towel tied tight in a knot pushing them up further.

"Uh huh." He agrees, not quite sure what he is agreeing to. She gets a little pinker and concentrates on finishing the bread, looking at him with big grey eyes, and then away.

"What?" She asks.

"What?" He asks. Not sure what she's asking him.

"You keep looking at me." And he can see for the first time she's just as nervous as he is. The thought seems ridiculous to him, and it makes him smile, giving him a bit more confidence.

"I'm not allowed to look at you?" He jokes, partially nervous about her answer.

"Not like that. You're making me blush." She drinks some of the water at that.

"But I like looking at you. You're my wife after all." She blushes even deeper, and he is deeply endeared. She is adorable.

"True. I suppose I'm being silly. You have been inside me after all." And then she goes and says something like that. She moves away from him at that, so he can't see the look on her face.

His tongue gets away from him, "I want to see all of you." He requests. Not even sure where his boldness has come from.

She freezes, shoulders tensed. She doesn't move for the longest time, and he starts to regret it, wishing he could take it back. He's about to apologize, pretend it was a joke, when she turns back to him. Shoulders bolstered with strength, she meets his gaze and lets the towel fall. Her chin is held high, but the shallow breaths, which puff out her modest chest, are an indication that she's uncomfortable. He takes in every inch of skin, every freckle, every birthmark. He doesn't think he could tear his eyes away if he tried. He doesn't want to. He notices changes too, goose bumps start to form along her arms, her throat swallows deeply, and he can see her toes dig into the pattern on the rug.

"Are you done yet?" She jokes, pushing a strand of wet hair behind her ear; but her voice isn't as confident as it usually is.

"No. I don't think I'll ever be done." He says honestly. He shifts his gaze to her face to see her biting her lip.

"Well, it's a bit cold, so…" She turns around and goes to wrap the towel back around her, but he stops her.

"Please don't, you're perfect." She laughs a bit at that, but also seems to relax.

"Perfect? I don't think I've ever been accused of that before."

From behind her, he runs his fingers through her hair, the wet strands even darker than normal. She doesn't flinch or pull away, and he takes that as a good sign. His fingers trail down her neck and then her back, marveling at her soft skin. She shivers at his touch and he is encouraged. He can't stop touching her, brushing her sides, the curve of her backside, her breasts, and between her thighs. Her surprised gasp gives him pause, fearing that he's hurt her, but the way she settles farther back against him tells him to keep going; that and the slickness he feels coating his fingers.

"Is this okay?" He asks. He feels her head nod against his collarbone.

The noises she makes coupled with her bottom rubbing up against him, make the whole situation dreamlike. One from which he doesn't want to wake. He feels her body start to tense against him so he tightens his hold around her waist.

"I've got you." He whispers in her ear.

She falls into him with a cry, and drops her head back on his shoulder, completely boneless. He kisses her neck, holding her up, tasting a mix of her sweat and lemongrass from the soap. He wants to bury himself inside of her, but doesn't want to disturb her, so he just holds her tightly against him. When her breathing returns to normal and she can stand upright on her own she pulls away from his chest, gripping the nearby chair and he lets her, though he's sorry. But instead of moving completely away from him, she turns around and kisses him, and then everything becomes a blur. His clothes coming off, crashing onto the bed, his body falling into hers, and release.

They lay there together, him trying to get his breathing under control, waiting for the world to stop spinning, and the lights flashing before his eyes to calm down. Once he's more himself, he looks over at Arya to make sure she's all right. She must feel his gaze for she looks over as well.

"Was that, better?" He asks, unsure, reaching up to scratch his temple.

For a moment she's silent, before she starts giggling.

At this a huge grin spreads even wider across his face, and she starts giggling again. He gathers her up to hold her close, much like they slept together on the road. He pulls the sheets up over them, and she falls asleep rather quickly. His body wants to join her, but he fights it, wanting to stare at her and keep this moment forever. Even so, his eyelids start to droop.

It's sometime later that he feels hands sliding up his thigh and continue up. Arya is under the blanket, he can see her form underneath, and feel her skin smooth against him. He can barely move or even breathe, so surprised is he. The delicate hands move up his chest, kisses following in the wake of the caresses. This must be what one of the Seven Heavens feels like, he thinks, as Arya continues. As he pulls down the blanket to see her face, it's not brown hair he sees, but red. Not freckled skin, but moon white, like a ghost long since dead. His whole body freezes, and his stomach clenches painfully.

"Gendry." She taunts, with an accent from across the sea. He wants desperately to push her off, but can't move. He wants to scream, but can't get his jaw to work.

"Gendry." She says again with a smile, fingers grasping at his chest, digging into him violently, and drawing blood. He feels tears behind his eyes, but won't let them fall, can't.

"Gendry." He hears again, but the voice becomes younger, more hoarse, and the fingers aren't tearing his flesh, only soothing him. It's Arya, not _her_, and the breath he's been holding comes out in a whoosh.

"It's okay. It's okay." She reassures him. "It was just a dream." She moves her hand up to his pitch-black hair and brushes some strands back, he can feel the sweat gathered on his brow. He takes her hand and kisses her fingertips.

"It was just a dream." He repeats. Her large grey eyes squint at him in concern, and her pink lips tighten. The sorceress' face fading from view.

"What was it about?" She asks. What can he tell her?

"I… I don't remember." He lies. She nods slowly in acceptance.

"Those are the worst." She remarks. "You're afraid, but you don't even know what of. It makes you feel so, helpless." And she cuddles back beside him.

"Yeah." He agrees readily. But then something occurs to him. "Do you have nightmares?" He turns his head to look at her beside him.

"All the time." She says staring up at the ceiling, betraying no emotion.

"I haven't heard anything these last few nights. I couldn't even tell…" Her fingers fidget next to him, nervously.

"I learned how to keep from crying out. I had to." Her fingers trace invisible patterns in the wrinkles of the bed sheets. He grasps the hand in his own, providing her the comfort she'd just offered him.

"You can cry out, if you want. I'll be here." He promises. She looks over at him then with a small smile.

"And you can tell me about your nightmares, if you want. When you're ready." She is far, far too clever.

"Arya, I…"

A commotion downstairs interrupts their discussion.

"What the…" She starts but trails off. There's more banging and lights turning on one after another.

"One second." He says, reluctantly getting up, pulling his pants on hastily. He sees Arya eyeing him from the bed, pulling the sheet up higher around her, but her ear is cocked to listen for further disturbances. Some loud accusations make their way up the stairs and beneath the door.

And she jumps up too, looking around for her dress on the floor.

"Go back to bed, I'll check it. I'll be right back." He suggests.

"I'm coming too."

"No, Arya. It could be thieves or rapists. You just stay here and…" Why is it so hard to talk and think when she isn't wearing any clothes?

"What, so they can kill all of you and then I'll be alone all by myself? No, I don't think so. I'm coming."

She renews her search. He knows how stubborn she is, how she believes she's always right, and how he always wants to let her win. But he has to keep her safe, that is his only, most important job. So, knowing she will probably kill him later, he grabs her dress from off the floor and holds it away from her.

"Oh there it is." She says, noticing the garment in his hand. She reaches for it, but he pulls it back. His large frame makes it easy for him to keep the dress out of reach. Immediately understanding dawns on her face and she outright glares at him, thick eyebrows scrunched. Well, there go the cuddles. "Give it." She orders. As if anyone could ever doubt she's a highborn.

"Please, just stay. You can be mad at me if you want. But this is a waste of time. I need you to be safe." He tries to emphasize how much he means it, his good intention. She only tries to grab the dress from him, but he knew exactly what she was going to do and moved it out of her reach. She looks furious. And while he does enjoy the sight of her naked bouncing, he knows there is a good chance she will kill him later. "I'm serious." He says. She stops jumping, and he's relieved that she finally understands. That is until she grabs his shirt and belt up off the ground and holds it for all she's worth. He lets out an exasperated sigh, clutches his pants with one hand and runs out the door. He hears first one bang, then another, and he recognizes the sound of each of his boots being flung against the door. He doesn't slow, but he feels himself getting angrier and angrier at whoever caused the disturbance and ruined their moment of peace.

He finds Tom, Anguy, Lommy, Hot Pie, and most of the whores gathered in the salon, and three men at the center being questioned. Upon seeing him, they open the circle and make way. He recognizes the men his uncle Stannis sent with him, and remembers the look of resignation on Arya's face upon their disappearance.

"My Lord." A young one greets. A few of the whores look over at him with surprise, but he doesn't take his eyes off the soldier.

"Where have you been? Where are the others? There were twenty when we left."

"We were attacked, Milord. We're what's left." Another answers, and he can see they each have a number of scratches, bruises, and minor wounds.

"Attacked by who?" Tom asks. He's about to answer when heavy footsteps clomp down the stairs, and a little figure rushes past. Upon seeing the soldiers, it stops.

"You." She says, eyes flaring. Of course. There's Arya, dressed only in his huge shirt, tied around the waist with his belt to keep it up above her knees. She blows straight past him and violently shoves the young soldier closest, a gangly thing with curly black hair and a few days of poorly grown stubble. Did he say she was wild before, he meant savage.

He grabs her before she can kick the youth like she's obviously about to. She fights to get free until he says, "Arya. Arya! Stop! They were attacked. These three are the only ones who made it." She stops struggling, but looks unconvinced.

"Out of twenty men, there are only three."

"It was The Bloody Mummers." The second says, chin sticking up proudly despite his lack of a neck, both answering the question and defending himself. Anguy looks at them with pity then. And Arya stops fighting him completely. He lets her go.

"Are you sure?" She seems skeptical.

"The Bloody Mummers have always been a problem 'round these parts, I believe it." Tom answers this time.

"I apologize. That was uncalled for. I shouldn't have assumed the worst." She concedes.

"No, I'm sorry, My Lady. We were meant to see you and your things safely home, and we've already failed in our task." The young soldier apologizes.

"The supplies?" She asks, already knowing the answer.

"Gone. They lamed most of the horses before we could get to 'em. And killed o'er half a us. Took ev'rything. We followed, got lost, and they killed the others. We was too tired and too disoriented ta fight well. We found this place, but, we thought we'd lost you lot too." The third says by way of apology, the thick blonde stubble on his neck ringed in dirt. Arya closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, swallows, and then composes herself.

"Well I am glad you three survived. Things are just things. Human life matters more." She says.

"I'm sorry for your losses. I will tell my uncle of your bravery." He adds.

"Yeah, but…" Hot Pie starts. Everyone looks at him. "So they got everything? You couldn't save nothing?" He looks incredulous.

The second reaches deep into his pants and pulls out a pouch. "Well, nothing 'cept these." He opens the drawstring and pours out a few precious stones, the ones gifted to them by Queen Danaerys. Tom and Anguy 'woop' in celebration. The prostitutes look awed by the sight. Gendry himself feels relieved, knowing the upcoming journey will be a little less harrowing. Arya pastes on a tight smile and praises them man on his cleverness. But overall, she still seems unimpressed.

"And the trunk, My Lady." Her head snaps towards him. "That's why it took us so long." The first pipes up.

"What trunk?" She's completely alert, focusing all her energy on this one soldier, as though he held her life in his hands.

"The one you told us about, My Lady. You said to guard it above all else, did you not?" She puts her hand to her chest.

"Yes, I…" She can barely get her words together. "Where is it?" And he points to the corner, where a rather ornate trunk he'd noticed on the beginning of their journey sits untouched. She lets out a mangled laugh and makes her way immediately over to the treasure, crouching down before it, letting her fingers hover over the sides without touching. The laugh continues but mixes with tears as she reverently fingers the lock, springing the trunk open. Everyone is leaned forward, trying in vain to get a glimpse inside the mystery box. What could possibly cause such a reaction from a highborn lady who completely ignored a handful of gems? But her body blocks any view of its contents, and everyone is too uncomfortable to go closer. They're afraid she'll start sobbing in earnest, the men especially wary of such a prospect, having witnessed it on the King's Road.

Gendry alone makes his way over and puts his hand on her shoulder, at which she promptly shuts the lid tight.

"What is it, Arya?" Wondering if she will actually tell him. She holds her hand out and he takes it, she pulls him down lower to sit beside her, completely unmindful of their audience. She looks right at him, having to tilt her head a bit to compensate for his height.

"Gendry, this is my father, Ned Stark." He hears Lommy curse under his breath. She turns her gaze back to the trunk. "Daddy, this is my husband, Gendry Baratheon." Bella gasps loudly behind them.

He doesn't know what he's meant to do, what he's meant to say. His bones, Lord Stark's bones. No wonder she was so upset. She looks back at him expectantly.

"Ummm. Nice to meet you, Milord. Uh, My Lord." He responds, and she smiles and nods, so he supposes he's done the right thing.

After a moment, she rises, and he follows suit. There are happy tears still running down her face.

"Is everything alright, My Lady?" The curly-haired soldier asks.

"Oh yes." She laughs. And she runs over to him, the same soldier she battered not minutes ago, and begins to pepper his cheeks with kisses. Gendry finds he doesn't like that at all, but knows how stupid it would look to say anything. The soldier looks uncomfortable, but gives her a half smile anyway. She releases him and wipes the tears and snot from her nose, a smile beaming across her face. With her other hand she grabs Gendry's own until they're standing side by side.

"Delia." She says, searching out the older woman, who for her part looks very surprised to be singled out. "Drinks all around, we're celebrating." There are loud cheers in response, and everyone is given a shot of something pungent smelling.

"A toast." She says before anyone can take a drink. "You men," She starts, and looks at each in turn; the three additions, Tom, Hot Pie, Anguy, and even Lommy. "All you men. I know you didn't ask for this. To come with us. You were ordered or forced. You came out of convenience or duty. You don't know me, we're strangers. But each of you has been a friend, served me or my husband faithfully. I am both honored and grateful. And I want to say- all loyal men will have a place at my table, in my home." She stops and shakes her head. "Our home, will be more than welcome. As honored guests, and Northmen." And she raises her glass and swallows the entire contents, impressing more than a few. The men cheer, but they're solemn, serious. It is obvious that no man mistook the depth of her message, the sincerity.

Gendry raises his glass in salute, and thinks once more, she is a much better lord than he will ever be. His Brotherhood drinks and laughs with the arrival of more strong liquors. Stannis' men drink too, but look as though their eyes will shut at any moment, lounging on the couch, while one of the whores, whose name he can't recall, tends to their wounds. Arya takes another drink, but only sips at it. She's watching all of them, but not quite joining them, enjoying their carefree spirits. He leads her over to a sofa in the corner, and when he sits, she perches herself on his lap. She smiles at him, and he holds her closer. She tucks her head beneath his chin and settles backwards. Tom looks over and gives him a knowing grin, raising his eyebrows comically before directing his attention back to Leera. Anguy looks over too, though his eyes seem to linger on Arya's displayed legs, up to Gendry's disapproving face, then back over to Cherise's throat. He feels someone take the cup out of his hand before he falls asleep.

Author's Note: Yup, it got way too long. But I just couldn't help it. Did anyone fall for the dream fake-out? How was the sex scene? Any thoughts on Lommy? Does anyone really believe it will be all puppies and kittens from here on out? Because you're wrong! My stories will have angst every few chapters or so, that's just the way it is. So don't get too comfortable. But hopefully you laugh a bit too. Next up- Arya's POV. Also, probably, more sex. And I think Arya deserves another woman on the journey with them, don't you? Something to break up all the testosterone, give her advice, and give her support. Review please.


	11. Girl Talk

Author's Note: Wow, I got some great reviews! So great to hear. I even got answers to some of my questions, surprisingly, and that's great because it gives me some feedback. A special thanks go out to…

IrishJessy- You're currently the best, your reviews are insightful and specific. I do wish I'd though about Bella going with them, but no, it's a new character. Don't worry though; Gendry will meet Shireen eventually, so that will happen. He needs more family.

Shelly- You know what's what. Good on you.

Tam & Jax get special mention for consistent reviewing.

Okay, light scene, I'm also going to include a flashback, another experiment for me, so let me know what you think about that. This chapter got away from me; so continued sexiness will have to wait until next time. I think this story was missing another girl to talk to. Let me know if you like her.

Girl Talk

Arya

She dreamed of falling, and when she woke she was, she felt her self slipping down only to be stopped by strong arms. As she came to her senses she realized she had fallen asleep on Gendry's lap and against his bare chest in the main room of The Peach, a few others passed out around them on the floor. While she should have been uncomfortable, she wasn't, and found she quite liked the feeling.

She also felt her husband poking into her backside, and while she wasn't squeamish about it like she had been the past few times on the road, she still thought it was bad timing given their current lack of privacy. Typical, their last chance of a featherbed for quite some time and she'd wasted it. While he was still sound asleep, and seemingly nightmare free, she was also quite stuck in his embrace, and had to urinate badly. She did manage to free herself, but ended up in an undignified heap on the floor. She looked around to see if anyone had noticed, but no one stirred. Still, he didn't wake. Damn he was a heavy sleeper, but she had decided it was adorable, so that was that.

She had to step over a few people to get back to the room, and actually sighed in relief as she finally got to use the chamber pot. She didn't see her clothes anywhere, but wasn't too concerned. Last night had felt like a good omen of things to come, and she wasn't about to dwell on her lack of attire. Given the minimal light in the sky, she judged it was still quite early. She wondered what exactly she could do with herself. She decided the first order of business was to say goodbye to Merilee. She had been a godsend last night, and she wanted to say goodbye personally.

*Flashback*

"Merilee, see that our guest has everything she needs." Delia instructs as she pulls the striking girl aside.

"Of course." The curly haired girl agrees and motions for Arya to follow her upstairs.

"Hi." She says, turning her head around but continuing to walk. "I'm Merilee." She has a bit of an accent, but Arya could not place it.

"Hi, I'm Arya."

"She called you a guest, so I guess that means you get the good room." She says good-naturedly.

"Anything will do. As long as I can wash this stink off me, I don't really care about what else." She snorts in the way of laughter, and Arya feels more at ease.

The room they enter is nice, it reminds her somewhat of her room in The Keep. The tub is already in the room, but it needs to be filled. Without complaint, Merilee starts the long, arduous process of bringing in bucket after bucket of hot water from a heated tank to fill up the bath. Arya joins in, as much to speed up the process, as discomfort with watching another work in her stead. Merilee flashes her a toothy smile in response, and they work in companionable silence for a few minutes until the their task is complete. Only, now the water is too hot, so she needs to wait for it to cool a bit.

"So, travelling with The Brotherhood. You must be tough." She says, a small smile on her lips. Up close, Arya gets the chance to study her. Merilee really is a beauty; curvy in a way Arya will never be, with tan skin that suggests a more foreign origin.

"I'm not travelling with them exactly, they're helping me get home."

"Still. Four? Even I have my limits." She looks flabbergasted.

"No, I'm not…" Arya sputters at the insinuation.

"I might have taken you for green, but that's no small feat. You must be good."

"Uh. It's not like that. And I am green." She admits.

"Well, what's the deal? They're good men, but they're not gonna go out of their way for free."

"I, I'm with Gendry." Merilee raises an eyebrow over a perfect hazel eye at this.

"Gendry? The big one? How'd you manage that?"

"I have no idea." Arya says honestly. This earns her a warm smile.

"See, I was right. You are good. The girls have been trying for years with that one, but never got too far. Now he's dragging you along, settin' you up nice and sweet, like a special guest. You'll have to give me some helpful tips." Arya is pleased to find out he had told her the truth. And amused at the idea that a seasoned whore was asking her for tips, even erroneously. Although, it did leave her wondering whom the mystery woman or women from his past could be. If he'd loved them.

"Uh, basically the opposite. I feel completely like a fish out of water." She scrunches her brows in confusion at that, but smiles in response.

"Well, wait a minute and you can hop back in." Merilee motions to the bath. Arya laughs at that, and though she doesn't know what to say next, she feels very comfortable in that moment. "Where'd you meet him?" Merilee prompts.

"King's Landing. It… Just happened."

"Uhuh." Merilee says in understanding, although she clearly doesn't.

"I have no idea what I'm doing." Arya admits sheepishly, biting her lip. Merilee watches her closely.

"Well, what do you want to know?" And she sits on the chair, getting comfortable.

"I…" Arya becomes shy, but isn't willing to give up this rather unique opportunity. "Everything."

"Ooookay. That's easy enough." She laughs again. "Well, how is it? How's he?" Arya grimaces involuntarily, and Merilee sucks in a breath in sympathy.

"Yeesh. Sorry. Is he too rough? 'Cause you don't have to put up with that you know? Delia doesn't accept that shit. You can always stay here. I'm sure she'd be happy to take you on. You'd make plenty here." She says, eyeing her up and down.

"No. No." Arya is quick to clarify. "No, it's just, new. I don't really think he knows what he's doing either." The girl raises both her eyebrows at that, and nods.

"Yeah, I can see that. And how big is he?"

"Uh… He's tall. I don't really know…" The girl laughs again, but puts her hand over her mouth to try and stifle it.

"No, that's not what I meant." And she looks down pointedly.

"Oh." Arya responds, her mouth forming an actual o. "Uh, big?"

"Yeah. And it hurts?" She asks with compassion. Arya only nods.

"Well, there are things you can do."

"Really?" And she's hopeful at that. Merilee smiles at her reassuringly.

"Sure. Do you like cucumbers?" She asks seriously.

"What?" Merilee shakes her head.

"Never mind. Here." She puts her fingers in the bath to test the temperature, nods in satisfaction and gets up. "Just wait. I'll be right back." And she's gone. Arya is floored by the conversation. While she still hasn't received any constructive advice, she feels understood, and it was good to voice her troubles. It seemed like her difficulties, her discomforts, were rather normal. She dips her toe into the water. Still a bit too hot. The girl returns quickly, smiles and walks forward. She has a pouch in her hands, and takes some crushed up peppers and sprinkles them onto the surface of the water.

"What's that?" She asks curious.

"Capsicum peppers, they relax your muscles and relieve pain. It'll open you right up." She explains.

"Oh."

"Well, go on." And Merilee motions towards the tub. Her new friend doesn't make a move to leave, and she realizes it's a bit silly to be self conscious in front of a whore. She strips under her watchful eye and gets in all at once. It's still hot, but it feels amazing.

"Well?" She asks expectantly.

"So good." Arya practically moans out.

She smiles in response. "Here." And she hands her a bar of soap. It's delicious, it smells like the lemon cakes she used to eat as a child, and she almost cries, instead, she scrubs herself raw. "I brought you some tea too." And she hands her a cup, careful not to spill it. Arya smells it, and grimaces at the scent.

"Uh, no thank you." Again, the girl laughs.

"It's not meant to taste good. It's meant to protect you against having a child." Merilee explains patiently. While part of her might have wanted to take it, she knew it would be a mistake. And she considers how to politely refuse without giving a reason why. Instead of answering, she distracts her.

"Merilee, where are you from?"

"I'm from The Arbor."

"The Arbor. That's not far." And Arya puts the cup down without being too obvious about it.

"No. I meant to get farther. Actually, I wanted to travel the world, but only made it as far as here." The girl does notice, but says nothing.

"Still, you've seen more than most, I expect."

"I'm the first to make it out of The Arbor."

"And…" Arya starts to ask.

"What?"

"Never mind." And she studiously goes back to scrubbing her hair.

"No, what?"

"I mean, how did you come to be here exactly? Doing this… type of work?" Merilee eyes her curiously, but answers anyway.

"Family business. My mother did the same. Her mother before her. You might say I'm a legacy." Merilee doesn't sound ashamed, but she isn't proud either.

"Well, it seems to me, being good at what you do, whatever it is you do, is the most important thing." Arya states reasonably.

"I do try. I could show you if you want. If you stay here, I could teach you." And she looks shy as she asks, intent on Arya's answer.

"Thank you. For the offer." Arya says respectfully, almost choking up at this unexpected kindness. "But I need to get home."

She nods in understanding.

"You know. If you're trying to trap him, it won't work."

"Wait, what?"

"You didn't drink the tea. Gendry may be one of the better ones, but that doesn't mean he'll marry you." She drops the soap at that. Merilee picks it up and hands it back to her. "But do what you want. It's up to you. You'll see though." Arya changes the subject once again.

"How old are you?"

"I dunno. Twenty something. And you?" Why does no one know their own age? Strange.

"I." Wait, she wasn't quite sure either. "Eighteen, I think."

"I was much younger when I started."

"I'm sorry." Arya says, then immediately wonders if that was insulting or condescending. But Merilee doesn't seem offended.

"Well, it's not exactly my dream job, my dream life. But it keeps me fed. I still want to travel."

"Where would you go? If you could go anywhere?"

"Bravos, Essos, Lys. I want to visit the Isles, all of them. I don't know. Everywhere. Where's home?"

"The North. Winterfell."

"The North. I never really thought much about it. What's it like?" And she runs her fingers through the surface of the bathwater, displacing peppers in her wake.

"Cold. But clean, crisp, pure. It smells different too. And there aren't so many people; you can go a long while without seeing anyone. It's just you and the land. People live there, but it's nature, the Old Gods you need to deal with, to make peace with."

"It sounds nice. Maybe I'll put it on my list."

"Please do." And for a moment, to Arya, it feels like spending time with a beloved sister.

*End Flashback*

Her advice, kindness, and friendship had helped her immensely. And she wanted to say goodbye personally, perhaps reward her in some way. Merilee was not upstairs, so she went back down. She wasn't in the kitchen, although Bella was. She was preparing breakfast, and with a rather cold blue look, fixed her a plate. She ate quickly, thanked her, and moved on. She found Merilee in the laundry room, curly hair bouncing as she placed sheets in a large washbasin.

Arya clears her throat to get her attention. As Merilee turns around and sees her, she has a blank expression on her face.

"Uh. Hi. Good morning." Arya greets warmly.

"Morning." She says back.

"Listen, uh, we're leaving today, so…"

"Oh yes, I have your clothes ready, they should just about be dry."

"Merilee, I…"

"You know what? Let me ask you something. What was that last night? Were you just playing with me? Making fun of me?"

"No. Of course not." Arya is shocked.

"Really. Then why didn't you tell me you were a Lady? The things I said…" And she rubs her palm across her forehead.

"No no. I didn't tell you because… because you treated me like a person. You were honest, genuine. It's been a while since someone just said what they meant, told me the truth. You helped me, and I can't tell you what it meant to me." Merilee's face softens. "I wanted to give you this." She has one of the newly found precious stones in her palm and tries to hand it to her. Merilee clasps her palm, but doesn't let go.

"Did you mean what you said?" She asks sincerely.

"Of course. I just said it, didn't I?" Arya answers.

"No. Last night. Did you mean it when you said all men were welcome, would have a place in Winterfell?" Her hazel eyes are intent. Arya doesn't hesitate to respond.

"Of course."

"Did you mean women too?"

"Of course." Merilee nods and hands the jewel back to her.

"Let me come. I have many talents besides whoring. I can cook, clean, sew, I do hair. And you already know I have a talent with herbs. My mother taught me the ways of remedies and…"

"Wait, I thought you said your mother was, a, ummm…"

"We do both." She says dismissively. "I can serve you. If you let me come with you…" Arya interrupts.

"Merilee. Go get your stuff." She looks surprised and then when it dawns on her, she breaks into a giant grin and runs out on a mission. "Thank you, My Lady." Oh no, she'll have to nip that right in the bud.

Arya makes her way out back to find her clothes hanging on the line. For some reason she chooses the dress again, and she can't explain why. It's hanging high on the line, and she has to stretch up on her tiptoes to reach it. She then feels arms wrap around her middle and screams loudly.

Immediately the arms let go, and she sees it's just Gendry. He looks guilty for scaring her.

"Sorry."

She hits him on the arm. But he doesn't even flinch, so she hits him again.

"Ow." He says smiling.

"Don't do that." She says, hand on her chest, laughing, trying to keep an angry look on her face.

"I won't then." He says and kisses her sweetly.

"Good. Don't." But she's smiling too.

"I won't." He agrees.

"Don't." And kisses him lightly once more.

"I've been looking all over for you. Are you almost ready to go?" He still has sleep in his eyes.

"Yes, I just need to get dressed. Gather the others. Oh, and we're gonna need another horse by the way."

"Wait. What?"

A/N- Okay, the next chapter we're back on the road. Please tell me if you like Merilee. I do. Arya and Gendry aren't jumping each other's bones every minute, but they're getting comfortable with each other. Until something gets in the way, like The Brotherhood, or a certain undead leader… dun dun dun.

Also, shameless self advertising, if you're bored between chapters please check out my other fic called For Want of a Better King which is also Gendry/Arya but different so you won't be bored. That one stays with the timeline of the book, but definitely veers off-course. I'll try to update each alternatively.

I found new cool art for the cover, so that's cool too.

Review please.


	12. Road Trippin'

A/N: I know I said there would be tons of angst, but you've been given a reprieve for the one-month anniversary of the fic. Yeah, Happy Anniversary! This was supposed to be up yesterday. Here is a cute chapter for your enjoyment. But don't get too comfortable.

Also, I am really fucking around with the map of Westeros for plot purposes. So no need to point out that Storm's End is closer than The Vale, for example, I already know. Please just go with it, 'kay.

Yes, Arya may have more questions along the way, so it's a good thing Merilee came with to answer them and give support. Someone asked if Merilee would later betray Arya. And while I don't want to give away plot points, I will say, I hate it when all the female characters have to stab each other in the back, fighting over men or some such nonsense. Sometimes girls are friends and look out for one another. That being said, trust no one in Westeros, ever.

Road Trippin'

Arya

Delia gave them a nice enough horse, well not exactly gave, they had paid the Madame quite well for all their supplies. Arya truly didn't mind though, she was in too good of spirits to mind.

They had four extra members now; the young curly-headed one that reminded her a bit of Jon was named Brent. The fatter one was named Begby, and the kind rough one was named Rik. And Merilee of course.

Tom suggested that they didn't need the horse at all, that Merilee could ride with him, pressed up nice and cozy. Merilee told him that she would no longer be whoring in her new role as Lady's Maid. Tom shut right up at that. Arya was proud of her for sticking to her convictions, but annoyed at how formal she was being with her. And so, as they set out, Arya stuck close to Merilee so they could chat. They rode towards the back, because that way they'd have more privacy.

"You're sure? This is going to be a really long journey, probably dangerous. And I don't even know what we'll find when we get up North, so…" Arya warns.

"I am completely sure. I am ready for a new adventure." Then she lowers her voice close to a whisper, so only Arya can hear. "How was last night? You two looked comfy this morning." And she wriggles her eyebrows suggestively, which causes Arya to giggle.

At this the men turn around to look, causing both the girls to burst out in full-on laughter. They turn back around but look very confused.

"It was… good." Arya whispers, blushing.

"Not too much pain?" Arya only shakes her head in the negative.

"Sometimes, I wish I was a girl. Just sos I could be a part of girly secrets." Hot Pie remarks loudly. The others laugh loudly at that.

"What? Like you haven't thought it." Hot Pie says, a little offended.

"I think you'd make a splendid girl, Hot Pie. You got plenty a curves," Anguy says, clutching at the air. "And you're a good cook. I'd fuck ya. Hell, I'd probably marry ya." Even Lommy laughs at this.

"I could do better." But Hot Pie seems pleased.

"So Lommy likes everyone but me. Why does he hate me?" It was true; he had been rather polite to Merilee.

"He doesn't hate you."

"No? He mostly ignores me, and when he isn't, he's giving me evil looks."

"Well, obviously. But it's not hate, he's just jealous." She explains.

"Jealous? No way. He's not interested in me. He really just doesn't like me. If anything he's too in love with Gendry to…."

"Uhumm." Merilee raises her eyebrows to let her know the answer should be obvious. It takes Arya a second, but finally it dawns on her.

"Oh!" And she exclaims so loudly that the men look back once more. Merilee just laughs at her, almost falling off her horse.

"Oh." She says again more quietly. "But that's not my fault. I mean, I can't help that."

"Of course not. No one's saying it's your fault. I mean, for fucksakes, everyone wants something they can't have. He doesn't have to be such a little shit about it."

"I guess so." She says, a little disheartened.

"He'll get over it when he sees you're not going anywhere."

"Hmm."

"Now go hang out with your husband, he's looked back here so many times I'm worried he'll break his neck."

"Oh no. I'm sure he just wants to spend time with his friends."

"No he doesn't. He has that kicked puppy look and…"

Arya laughs, but it turns into a snort. "He does do that sometimes." She takes a closer look at him amongst the men. "Okay, I'm going to ride with him for a bit."

"Go on. I'll talk with you later." At that Arya speeds up to catch up with the others.

Gendry's face lights up as he greets her, and she feels a little guilty for neglecting him that morning. She tried to make small talk with the others for a while, really she does, but she mostly wants them to go away. Eventually they get the hint and slow their horses, joining up with Merilee.

"Hi." Gendry greets again.

"Hi." She smiles back.

"So what were you and Merilee talking about?"

"Girl secrets, like Hot Pie said."

"So that means I don't get to be in on the secrets?" And he pouts in an exaggerated manner.

"Sorry no. But, I'm sure you guys have your own secrets."

At a startled gasp they turn around to find Anguy cupping Hot Pie's chest. "Nice boobs." He says.

"No. No secrets." Gendry says, looking embarrassed.

"Well, we will have secrets too."

"I guess so." And he smiles a toothy grin at her.

Her horse, a rather lovely chestnut mare named Sansa, walks over a particularly rocky patch, and she has to clench her thighs tighter atop the saddle to keep herself balanced. It's then that she decides all over again how much she loves riding. Gendry is having a more difficult time, not quite as accomplished a rider as her. But Arya knows enough not to broach it with him, men could be so sensitive she knew. Her brothers always used to get upset when she beat them at things. She's sad for an instant, but has had too much good fortune recently, and refuses to dwell.

They pass under a large, beautiful tree, the leaf covered ground crunching beneath the clomping of the hooves. A tiny little leaf falls and lands directly on the top of his head. He must not feel it because he doesn't reach for it. Arya guides her horse a bit closer to his and plucks the greenery from his hair; he looks surprised before she shows it to him. As a reflex, he feels around on top of his head for more leaves, finding nothing, but searching for a few moments longer. She notices that he looks particularly handsome today. He had taken a full bath that morning, and Delia found him a razor to use. With his clothes newly cleaned, she found him extremely appealing. She was caught thinking again about the wasted featherbed. She decided they would definitely not waste their chance next time. Not that last night was a waste.

"Arya." She hears, pulled from her thoughts.

"What?"

"Penny for your thoughts?" She takes one look at him and bursts out laughing. He looks very confused.

"You're just like Old Nan. She always used to say that to us."

"Whose Old Nan?"

"She was my Septa."

"I'm not your septa, Arya." He's quite serious for a moment.

"I know that. You're my husband." He grunts. "What, is this because I rode with Merilee this morning?"

"No." But the way he's not looking at her tells her the answer is yes.

"I'm sorry. I just… It's been a little rough being surrounded by men constantly. It's kind of nice to have another woman along. I'm sure you'd feel the same if our situations were reversed."

"Hum. Not really. But I get it."

"You don't count though." He looks at her offended. "I mean, I don't mind you being around. I'm glad for it." He smiles again and reaches into a pocket. It takes him a while, but eventually he comes out with a penny and makes a big show of handing it to her.

"Are you serious right now?"

"Deadly."

"I can't."

"What? Why not?" He looks hurt, a slight frown on his face. Arya sighs deeply, looks behind her to make sure the others aren't listening, and leans in.

"Because, I can't stop thinking about last night. And I was wondering how soon we can do it again." Before she'd said it she'd been confident, but halfway through she realized how awkward it was, and wanted to take it back. Biting her lip she looks over to gauge his reaction.

He's just staring at her, eyes wide, blinking every few moments. A low hanging branch bangs him painfully in the shoulder but he doesn't even react. Arya is starting to worry that she's said the wrong thing. She wouldn't want him to think the wrong way about her. She is very embarrassed and wants to run and hide. "Please forget I just said that." She begs.

At that Gendry turns his horse around and yells at the others, "We're taking a break! Everyone just, do something!"

He jumps down quickly and reaches up to help her down as well. And then he starts running off through the trees, dragging her so forcefully that she has to hop over the roots to keep from tripping. As they get farther away from the others, Arya can swear she hears snorts and chuckles. Eventually they make their way to a clearing where they come to an abrupt halt.

"Gendry, what…?" But she can't finish the sentence because he's kissing her. He's not as timid as the night before, and she no longer feels sorry for her admission earlier.

The rush of earlier slows down. It's when he has her up against the tree that she realizes why she chose the dress. The bark hurts a bit, scratchy wood pressing into her back, but she doesn't really mind. He strokes the flesh of her thighs from where they show through the slits in the dress. And she clutches at his back, slipping her fingers beneath the shirt. He makes a sound suspiciously like a growl, and she feels an answering warmth in her gut, and then they are hurrying again.

Afterwards, getting her breathing back under control, she can't stop giggling. He brushes some hair away from her face and helps her smooth down her dress.

"Are you going to giggle every time?" He asks with a smile.

"I can't really help it." She answers, a little offended.

"No. I really hope you keep doing it. I like it very much." She giggles again before clamping her lips shut. The grin has not left his face, and he caresses her cheek.

"We should probably get back before they come looking for us." She starts back but he stops her.

"Wait, just…"

"What?"

"You look kind of…"

"What?" Arya starts to touch her hair self-consciously.

"No." He pulls her hand down away from her hair, and laces his fingers through hers.

"It's just, you look like, well… They're all gonna know."

She starts laughing. She then takes his face in her hands. "Honey, they know."

"Wha?"

"You weren't very discrete. I mean we just ran off and…"

"Oh, no. I'm so sorry. I didn't even think. It's just, you said, and then I couldn't even help myself." She is more flattered than she'd like to admit at that statement.

"I don't care." She assures him honestly.

"You don't?"

"No. I've smelled all of their farts, I'm not particularly self conscious in front of them anymore."

"Seriously? You don't?" He still doesn't believe her.

"No, not in the slightest. Unless you do."

"Well, the others will never shut up about it."

"Yes, they'll probably tease you within an inch of your life. Sorry." She's not really.

"Probably. But it's worth it."

"Really?"

"Of course." And he seems surprised she would question it.

"Good." And then she grabs him and kisses him once more, moving her fingers up into his hair, and messing up the strands as much as possible.

"Well, we may as well make it look good." They smile at each other conspiratorially, and head back. They find they're in even better spirits than before.

When they return, they're met with playful ribbing, which Gendry takes in stride.

Over the next few days, they take many more stops. At first, the others think it's hilarious, rolling their eyes at each unscheduled stop. But rather quickly they become frustrated. Whenever they 'sneak away' the others begin to groan, not pleased with the continued slow pace, and more than a little jealous.

At night when they make camp, there are quite a number of handkerchiefs tied up on various bushes, though morale continues to sink. Even weirder, Arya notices a lot of lingering looks. When she asks Merilee if they are angry with her, Merilee laughs at her naiveté, as she was wont to do.

"They're men travelling together with two women they can't have. They're imagining you, they're imagining me. They're imagining us together. Pretty soon they'll be imagining each other." She didn't mention any of this to Gendry.

In fact, Anguy had propositioned Merilee a number of times. He reasoned that if he didn't pay her, then she wasn't a whore. But she stuck to her word. She confided in Arya that she simply wasn't interested in any of them. She worried she would never truly be interested in anyone again. Arya, not knowing how to comment, said nothing. Arya eventually switched back to the pants and tunic, so the little trysts with Gendry did become less frequent, but they still had a nice routine going. Merilee tried to keep her primped, but Arya gave up on that completely. And for his part, Gendry didn't seem to care or even notice. Strangely, she was a little thrown by that, wondering if he really cared at all what she looked like. But then she realized she didn't even really care what she looked like, so it was all moot anyway.

As per the routine, she crawled in beside Gendry like always, falling asleep cuddled up against him. Normally, it was she that awoke first, but not this time.

"Arya. Arya." She feels her shoulder being shaken.

"Huh. Wha?" She wakes to the ground beneath her cheek; drool creating a puddle of near-mud where her mouth was hanging open. She looks up to see Gendry smiling at her.

"Morning. I saved you some breakfast, but the others want to get going soon. We're actually pretty close to the Inn, so…" Gendry was up before her? All the others were completely ready? What was wrong with her?

"No thanks, I'm not hungry. I'm just going to get ready." Without a good morning or bothering to wait for a response, she slips away to where the horses are tied.

"Maybe she's pregnant." She hears Rik suggest loudly. She just ignores them.

She feels a nervousness in her stomach, and she doesn't know where it's coming from. Next, she finds it difficult to catch her breath. She has no idea why she's feeling this way, why she's hiding out, or how to fix it. Her first impulse is to call to Gendry.

And that's when it hits her. She'd overslept. Her. And all their racket hadn't roused her either. It's because of him. She's come to count on him too much. She counts on how good his touches feel, the way his hair is all mussed and he smiles when he wakes, that he'll always be there at night. She always wakes first, has always been a light sleeper. But not today. She can't afford to let herself get soft, complacent.

Once upon a time she'd felt happy, confident her peaceful existence in Winterfell would never change. And she'd lost all of it. Her skin feels hot and itchy. She even thinks the world might be spinning around her, the bright explosions taking hold of her vision. She squats down unceremoniously and tries to count her breaths, but is unsuccessful. She focuses on objects around her- a large rock shaped like a dragon skull, a little brown bird chirping as it walks, dark green leaves shivering in the breeze, thin cloud wisps that remind her of a newly planted field, and the lovely golden pattern encircling the trunk housing her father's bones. Unable to get to her feet without succumbing to dizziness, she crawls to the trunk and plops down beside it.

"Father." She whispers. Suddenly her voice is stuck, and the words have to fight their way out. But she's more sure than ever at what she wants to say. "I'm scared, Daddy." She chokes a bit. "I don't know what to do. Something's going to happen, I know it. I'm going to ruin it. Everything I care about gets lost." And she does care; she cares about all of them. Somehow, they'd all become part of her pack. Most of them she knew would stay behind when they reached The Brotherhood. She knew The Inn was within their territory, and she was more than a little worried at what that would mean. And Gendry… He was stuck with her, she was sure of that, but... Anyone can be killed. Anyone can leave. She knew that well enough. She wasn't sure that she would survive that again. "I can't be alone again."

_Arya _she hears. The name startles her. She looks all around, and there's no one.

_Arya_ she hears again. This time she looks down at her father's bones.

"Daddy?" She asks aloud, equal parts frightened and hopeful.

_Arya _the voice repeats. And she knows she didn't hear it, not physically, that there were no actual words spoken; she felt it. She looks up as the trees shake, more violently than the wind should allow. It's not her father, she knows. The voice, the one she shouldn't even be hearing, it's not his. But the voice does sound familiar, and she's strangely comforted by it. She feels less alone, a tangible presence all around her. Bran?

"Arya." She hears, and gasps out loud, hand clutched to her breast. But it's not the trees, it's the young soldier, the one with curly hair who reminds her of Jon, Brent, his name is. "Are you alright, My Lady?" She calms down her racing heart, accepts his hand up, and shakily follows him back to the others.

"Hey. Everything okay?" Gendry asks, kissing the top of her head. She nods absently and he pulls her face away from him so he can look at her closely. He looks overly concerned for only a few minutes' absence. Oh right, Rik's comment about her being pregnant.

"I'm okay." She reassures him, though she's sure she isn't. He still looks skeptical, but kisses her forehead, maybe a bit longer than normal. It's too late anyway, she thinks. You can't stop caring.

A/N: Okay, a teeny conflict at the end. When will they ever admit how much they love each other? Huh? Huh? Next up- The Inn at The Crossroads. This didn't turn out exactly the way I wanted it to, but oh well. Review Please.


	13. The Inn at the Crossroads

A/N: Awww, I got a couple of really nice reviews. Keep it up y'all; it's what inspires me to write faster. That and the fact that work is slow now, I'm completely reevaluating my life choices, and these stories are stuck in my brain. So, enjoy, we've got angst ahead.

The Inn at the Crossroads

Gendry

The day was not a pleasant one. The sky was grey, and dark clouds were gathered up above. Gendry couldn't decide if Arya was acting so cold and distant because of the weather, or if she was somehow indirectly controlling it herself. Both were equally likely in his opinion. She wasn't being particularly mean, just distant. It all started that morning after she disappeared for near a half hour. Rik thought she might be pregnant and moody, but Merilee said it wasn't so, that she would know. He did believe her, reluctantly. Despite the short amount of time the two women had known each other, they were already inseparable. If Arya were pregnant, her new friend would definitely know about it.

But, Arya was definitely distant, and he was not just imagining it. At first he thought she was just reacting to his reluctance to get to The Inn, but it was definitely more complicated than that. And he knew he was overreacting, being overly sensitive. When he had first married her, he had assumed they would be as strangers, that the occasional smile was the best he could hope for. But after The Peach, he knew he would never be satisfied with anything less than a partner. Not now that he'd tasted it. In his wildest dreams he couldn't have dreamed of a woman who could help him sleep at night, who would moan and heat up beneath his touch, who would support him, smile at him, curse, and actually help him with his responsibilities. He knew she was stunning from the first, but it was the kind of beauty that showed him new facets at every turn; while flushing adorably, running around in pants, dressing up, or becoming genuinely frightening when she was angry. She was being very quiet, barely speaking to any of them; not even her new best friend Merilee.

And humorously, the latest backtrack in their relationship was not his only concern, and shouldn't be at the forefront at all. As they approached The Inn, he knew they would find Jeyne Heddle there as well. Seeing her again after all this time, after how they'd left things, it was going to be extremely uncomfortable. And he was only thinking of his end. Jeyne would be furious, and rightfully so. Arya, well there was no way at all to predict her reaction. She could be jealous and territorial; actually he wouldn't mind that at all. Or she might also be disappointed. That, he did not want. And at that, he could imagine the space between them growing wider. No more unscheduled stops, no more shy smiles beckoning him off the path.

But his greatest concern by far was The Lady Stoneheart. He knew it was ridiculous; the creature had only ever been at The Inn but once, her presence made the children uncomfortable. She made him uncomfortable. The woman preferred to be around the killing anyway, not in the company of life. Still, he didn't know if he should tell Arya. The knowledge would only hurt her, he'd seen the way she was with her father's bones, and never wanted to add to her pain. Clearly, the loss of her family was still a very open wound for her. Knowing her, if he told her, she'd run off to The Twins to go see for herself. And he couldn't have that, something like that could destroy her. He couldn't let that happen. No matter what, he needed to protect his new wife, from all kinds of harm.

His mind went round in circles, well, more of a square. Circles suggest constant motion, whereas he would purposefully look for the corners to hide out in. He even considered bringing up one or all of these topics with her, just to have something to say, just to get her talking to him, but he's too much of a coward.

By the time they arrive, it is not quite dark, but no longer light either; the sky itself still threatening to pour down rain. At the sound of their approach, the entire Inn comes out to see them. A large chunk of The Brotherhood is there, and Gendry feels a smile make its way onto his face at the sight of Thoros and Lem. The smile grows wider at all the little orphan children that swarm around him. He looks over at Arya to see a small smile on her face. He is distracted by one tiny but strong body crashing into him, squeezing him tightly. He recognizes the little creature immediately as Willow.

"Gendry, you came back." She says, making him feel guilty.

"Yeah Will, for a bit. You're huge now, almost as tall as me." He jokes. She giggles at that and finally lets go, giving some of the other children the chance to hug him as well.

Some of them had grown a lot in the year since he'd been gone. Had it only been one year? It felt like ten, or a whole lifetime ago. He breaks away to go greet Thoros.

Tom and Anguy are enthusiastically hugging their brothers, Hot Pie is in on it too, and he even goes the extra step of introducing the new members; Brent, Rik, and Begby, Merilee, and even Arya.

"Can you believe it? Gendry got married. She's great…" He says this loudly enough that they all look from Arya to him, a deep silence permeating the air. A large basket drops forcefully to the ground, and his attention is drawn to the doorway where he sees Jeyne, looking shattered, before she flees back inside. The men he's started to think of as his own give him sympathetic looks, but he detects amusement underneath as well. He looks around fro Arya, but has lost sight of her. He begins to panic until he feels her come up beside him.

"Go talk to her." She instructs softly.

"Arya, it's not…"

"Go. Or I'll think less of you." She turns and walks away from him at that, going over to introduce herself properly to the rest of The Brotherhood, lapsing back into the role of a lady. With an exhausted sigh, he follows Jeyne inside to settle this.

He doesn't see her in the main hall, so he heads upstairs to check the guest rooms. After the fourth room, he finds her furiously folding sheets, purposely not looking up at the heavy sound of his footsteps.

"Jeyne…" He starts, not having any idea what more to say.

"What are you doing here? I didn't think you were ever coming back."

"I… we're just passing through."

"Oh, how lovely. You and your _wife _must be having a lovely trip_._" The way she spit out the word wife made something clench in his gut.

"Her name is Arya." He says patiently. She looks up at that.

"What a _lovely _name." She says sarcastically. He just wishes she'd stop using the word lovely. He is getting very unnerved. "Did you find her at The Wall? That is where you said you were headed, right? Or was all that just bullshit?"

"I never made it to The Wall, a lot happened, and…"

"You never came back, until now. With her." Her teeth are clenched. "She looks a bit like me, Gendry. Did you notice? Only not as pretty, She's too… short." His first impulse is to defend Arya, insist that she's beautiful, but even he's not that stupid. He supposed they did look similar, brown hair, thin. But Jeyne was taller, older, and closer to his own age. And her eyes were a soft shade of brown, not grey like winter itself.

"I'm sorry…"

"Sorry? You're sorry! You said you would take the black. And here you are, married to someone else, some lesser version of me."

"What do you want me to say?" He's trying to be reasonable, a tack that usually doesn't work with women.

"I want to know why? Why her and not me?"

"I don't know. It just sort of happened."

"That is bullshit! You don't just sort of marry someone." She swallows and calms down, hands on her hips. "Do you love her?" He doesn't answer and her eyes start to water.

"I'm sorry." He says again. "Truly, I never wanted to hurt you. I didn't plan this, and that's the truth. I want the best for you; I want you to be happy. Do you not want the same?" He can't look at her after the question; he hadn't meant to ask it. He feels her wrap her arms around him, a kind of uncomfortable hug, though the intended comfort is not lost.

"I do, Gendry. I want you to be happy. Are you?" He's not sure how to answer exactly. He thinks he will be, someday, when things settle. But there are no guarantees. He wants Arya though, there's no question about that. He is happy that she's forgiven him, though. And he feels lighter.

"I am." He says simply. Loud bawdy music breaks up the intensity of the moment, and he suddenly wonders how long they'd been gone. He hopes sincerely Arya hasn't gotten the wrong idea.

At his worried glances back and forth to the window, she suggests he go down.

"Come with me."

"I still need to finish folding these…" He only clasps her shoulder and gently directs her towards the door.

Out front there is a crazy party in full-tilt. The children are running around like wildlings, some jumping around to the music, others chasing each other in a large-scale version of hide and seek. Lommy was playing with them too, running around with his hands comically shaped like claws to excited screams and laughter.

Tom is the one playing; with his instrument back in his hands he looks more like himself than ever, back in his element.

Brent, Rik, and Begby are drinking and laughing with Merilee obviously feeling like the odd ones out.

Hot Pie is stirring a huge pot over a fire, he can smell the pigeon roasting inside, the ones Anguy had shot out of the sky. He has vegetables and herbs cut up and ready to be added. He is in bliss.

Anguy is having a great time, dancing animatedly, swinging a pretty young woman in circles, round and round again. It actually takes Gendry a moment to realize the woman is Arya. On the one hand he is glad to see her smiling and laughing, on the other he is deeply jealous. Instead of marching over to them and breaking them up he goes over to Merilee instead.

"My Lord." The soldiers greet. Merilee just nods at him. He cuts to the chase.

"How angry is she?" He asks her.

"Who?" She responds.

"Merilee…" He warns, not at all in the mood.

"She doesn't look angry to me."

"Well that doesn't mean anything, you can't always tell when a woman is angry." Begby comments.

"Go ask her." Merilee advises. Well, he knew for sure where the ex prostitute's loyalty lye.

"Thanks." He says, though she didn't help at all.

Instead of talking, which he knows he should do, he sits down off to the side and watches. Jeyne has since joined Lommy in playing with the children, if she was upset, she wasn't showing it either.

Thoros sits beside him, hair as scraggly as ever, snarky grin always in place. "I hear congratulations are in order, a pretty young wife from a noble house, a Lordship. You've done well for yourself boy. Cheers." And Thoros goes to offer him a cup; Gendry politely refuses, to which Thoros only shrugs. He drinks himself.

"Lady Stoneheart, is she…?" He asks.

"Off to kill more Freys, it's all she does these days." He answers. Gendry nods, relieved.

"I hope you know what you've done." Thoros continues.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what they say, about Starks and Baratheons. You may have cursed us all. Or at least yourselves."

"Fuck off, Thoros. And mind your own business."

"I only thought, no one else will tell you that to your face. Now I've said it, I will mind my own business. Good luck boy, I have a feeling you'll need it." And he leaves him then. Gendry had forgotten how much of a prick Thoros was. And once again, Gendry really does want a drink.

"Gendry." A soft voice draws his attention.

"Arya." She'd come to him, he hadn't expected that.

"Dance with me." She says.

"I can't dance." She laughs.

"I know. But, we never danced at our wedding, so, what the hell." And she holds her hand out. He reaches up and the force of his momentum nearly drags her down. He has to steady her. She's drunk again, or almost. Will that make her more agreeable or less stable? As he holds her close and awkwardly fumbles over his own feet, he stops caring. He can no longer even hear the music.

"How'd it go?" She asks.

"Huh?"

"The girl. What's her name?" Ah shit.

"Jeyne."

"And… Did you tell her?"

"Tell her what?"

"For fucksakes, Gendry."

"Uh, yes. I told her we were married." She nods.

"And how did she take it?"

"Uh, okay, I guess." And it's not a lie.

"Really?"

"Yeah, it was actually…" And he is distracted by her hands on his stomach. "Arya, what are you…" She then strokes her fingers along his throat.

"Well, she didn't stab you in the gut or rip your throat out, so it must have gone alright." And he captures her hand against his chest.

"She said she was happy for me."

"Liar. Well, she probably means to slit my throat in my sleep. It's what I would do."

"She wouldn't do that."

"Like she could. I could take her, easily. She's too, skinny." And he smiles warmly at her.

"Are you jealous?"

"What? No."

"Because you have no reason to be."

"I'm not jealous." She suddenly sounds perfectly sober. "I already told you. What you did before you met me doesn't bother me. I just…" She goes silent, collecting her thoughts. And he lets her. "I don't want to think of you leaving broken hearts all over the place and not cleaning up the mess. However many Jeynes you have out there…"

"Jeyne and I, we didn't…" He tries to clarify.

"Really?"

"She wanted to, Hell she wanted to marry me. But I knew I couldn't. I never wanted to have any bastards, so we never… But I did care for her, and I did hurt her." He feels her rumbling against his chest, and worries she might be crying. But on closer inspection realizes she's laughing.

"You're so strange. But you're a good man, maybe the best." She kisses him gently on the lips, and holds onto him as they dance. He knows he's clumsy, but she doesn't complain, only holds him tighter. He looks around to see the others enjoying the night along with them. The stars can't be seen through the fog, but despite the weather, the air seems warm. Jeyne and Merilee, the only other women, are singing along with Tom, slowing down the tempo of the music to a peaceful rhythm. And he thinks this feels exactly right, there is nothing cursed about this, about them.

The next day they set him to work in The Forge. Well, he volunteered, uncontrollable excitement coursing through him. It had been so long since he'd held the hammer in his hand, smelled the mix of fire and steel, let his muscles jump with every bang of the hammer, or felt the air change with the hiss of burning metal hitting cool water. He was home, or as close to it as he would ever be again. At least until he got settled in Winterfell with Arya.

Time melted away, fixing dented armor, broken swords, and bent horseshoes. He stoked the fire, feeling the cleansing flames draw more and more sweat down his forehead, off his chest, and onto the floor. He took his shirt off to mop up a bit, and then threw it in a corner. He had a very steady rhythm going, and for the first time in a long time he remembered who he was. This was him; the smith, the hammer and anvil.

"Gendry." He hears, and barely avoids smashing his hand.

"Oh, sorry." It's Arya, looking gorgeous in her green dress, hair perfectly in place, a pink glow to her cheeks, and a tray of food in her hands. "Your busy, should I come back?"

"No, no. Of course not." He wants to kiss her, but he's very aware of the layers of sweat and grime on his skin, the soot staining his fingertips.

"Ummm, I brought you lunch. It's long after midday." She says, but her words sound hollow. It's then he notices she isn't looking him in the eye, but rather staring at his chest; tracing a pattern with her eyes. He then wonders how long she's been standing there.

"Thank you." He says. And she snaps out of it, pulling her gaze back up to his face. He feels his back straighten with pride; she desired him. He thinks the warmth of the forge must be nothing compared to the inside of his chest.

"Of course, can't let you starve." She smiles, setting his tray down, shaking herself out of it.

"Stay and eat with me?" He requests.

"I already ate." Disappointment crashes down on him. "But I can sit with you." And just like that he feels on top of the world once more. He wipes his hands on a nearby cloth, which gets off most of the dirt, but some still remains, no matter how he scrubs. However, hunger wins out, so he eats the bread and cheese with grubby fingers. He's eaten worse.

"Not too hungover?" He asks conversationally.

"I didn't drink that much last night."

"Good." And, just like that, he's out of things to say.

"You looked good, working I mean. You seemed focused, content." And she looks down, picking at her nails, biting her lip. He is reminded of her shyness at The Peach, and he's struck with the impossible question of which he prefers: the shy, blushing, giggly Arya, or the one who will shove him against a tree in the woods knowing perfectly well the others could hear them. He sincerely hopes he never has to decide.

"It's natural to me." He says through a mouthful. "It's what I do, or what I was always trained to do." He swallows.

She nods. "Right, I forgot." She's still looking down, still picking at her fingers. It's then he recognizes she's not being shy at all; it's sadness.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He asks concerned.

"Nothing."

"Arya…" He prompts.

"It's just." And she sighs. "Seeing you here, in your element. I couldn't help but notice how relaxed you looked, how free. I've never seen you like that. It made me feel guilty." He opens his mouth to ask her what the hell she's talking about but she puts her hand up to request further silence. "I know you thought you wanted to be a lord, but are you really sure? This place, these people; you belong here. I guess I've been thinking, maybe you regret it, being stuck with me. It would have been so much easier to live here, work in the forge, and end up with Jeyne. I know you got stuck with me, and I don't want you to resent me." She's biting her lip. He's floored.

"Are you serious right now?"

"Don't make fun of me." And she's angry again. This he could deal with. But he thinks he should probably tell her, he'd been wanting to for a while.

"I'm not. I'm trying to explain. So just listen, okay?" She nods reluctantly. "I don't want to be a lord. I never wanted to be. Titles, responsibilities, all those facts and names to remember. Miserable. I wanted a name not a crest. A name to give my children, not years of a history I wasn't a part of." She scrunches her mouth in hurt. He continues on.

"And you're always saying I'm stuck. I'm not stuck." Her eyes get big at that. "When The Queen suggested it, and Stannis agreed to legitimize me, I just thought, what am I doing? I can't do this, be a lord. I can't…" He trails off, trying to find better words, knowing he's gone off course. "But then they said, they said I would get you. And without even meaning to, I said yes. I would get to have you." She looks utterly stunned.

"But, you didn't even know me."

"I didn't have to. I did know. I knew. I still know." At that, she takes his face into her hands and kisses him passionately, till the whole world is only the forge. He keeps his arms tight at his sides as she puts her hands all over him, fingers feeling grooves, and flat planes.

"What are you doing? Why are you just standing there?" She says out of breath.

He holds up his hands for her to see. "I don't want to ruin your only dress." She shakes her head at him in disbelief, then shoves him down into the modest chair against the wall. He is surprised for a moment before she sits atop him, thighs on either side of his. She takes his filthy hands and laces her fingers through.

"Don't be stupid." She scolds with a smile, then places his hands on her waist, a dark mark already forming on the green fabric. That's all the invitation he needs and then his hands are everywhere, kneading and caressing. Things progress quickly, and he says a silent thank you for the convenience of dresses; as he takes her in the forge. He also finds that he likes it just as much with her on top of him; dress smudged in his dirty fingerprints, laces half-open, eyelids hooded, and her hair only partly done. She kisses him once more happily before getting off him. He finds he can't get up, but reaches out to grab her arm, stopping her.

"Where are you going?" She's smiling, quite pleased with herself. She's not giggling though.

"I'm getting an archery lesson from Anguy. Make him shut up about how 'skilled' he is." His face falls at the mention of the archer.

"Oh."

"Don't be like that. Anguy's good with a bow, I always used to shoot with my brothers. It's not what you're thinking." She's right, he knows that. "If you're still working when I get back, I'll stop by with dinner. Maybe something I shot myself." Though he doubts it, given the abysmal gray of the sky. She's still smiling and kisses him goodbye. He finds he can't be too worried after all when she kisses him like that, also the very obvious hand prints on every inch of her mark her as his.

"Good luck." He says. She leaves, but looks back once, a wicked smile on her face, before disappearing out the door.

It takes a while, but he is finally able to get back up. He tries to get back to work, but has trouble concentrating, remembering how she hadn't minded his dirty fingers touching her in intimate places. Eventually he settles for polishing some of his finished works when he hears a sharp, pain-filled scream rip through the air. In an instant, though he's never heard its like before, he knows it's Arya. He runs out of the forge shirtless, hammer clutched tightly in his hand. He sees a large group circled around something, no one noticing his entrance. Frantically his eyes search out Arya, until he sees her at the center, staring at the ghostly figure of the woman who was once her mother, but now went by the name Lady Stoneheart.

A/N: Oh, longest chapter yet. Yup, the reunion had to happen. Think it will be a happy one? Do you think Gendry will ever get lucky again after Arya finds out he kept this from her? Review please.


	14. Disintegration

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews. I'm going on a trip for a while, and won't be able to post new chapters. So please enjoy this extra long double installment, maybe pace yourself.

Disintegration

Arya

Arya was in a great mood. That sense of foreboding from yesterday was leading up to the confrontation with that Jeyne girl, but it was done, and now she could stop worrying. Gendry said he wasn't stuck with her; he wanted her, forever, no matter what. It was like releasing a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. She knew Tom and Anguy might stay behind, so that's why she was making sure to spend some time with them before then. And she would never miss an opportunity to beat a man at a sport; it made her feel powerful, like she was helping women kind. Though it was admittedly very difficult to leave Gendry just then. She would make sure Gendry spent plenty of time in the forge of Winterfell, where he belonged. He would like that, almost as much as she would enjoy watching him.

Another large chunk of the Brotherhood entered camp, and she was very impressed with what these people had managed during the war. For all their crass and drunken behavior, these men had defended the common people of The Riverlands, Tully land, her grandfather's land. He was dead, but her uncle was supposedly still alive, perhaps she could leave some sort of message for him, she couldn't afford to waste any family, even if she had heard he was an idiot. The men filed in, disheartened and bone weary. Last of the group was a woman, dressed plainly but of a good quality material, a dark pink, nearly red. It was only as the woman came closer that she recognized her, and screamed.

Tom and Anguy were close by and came out immediately at her scream, but her gaze never left the woman who was once her mother. Still too far away, but she could see the grayish tinge to her flesh. The woman, staring right back, doesn't move, nor does her chest move in or out. Arya walks to her, as if spelled. She feels hands try to detain her but she single-mindedly breaks free and continues forward. She may even hear voices, but can't be sure; her own heart beat blocking all other sounds.

When she's close enough to see her mother's bright blue eyes, now covered in a whitish film, she hears a ragged croak, "Arya." The woman says, a hand covering her throat. Dead eyes squint in recognition. There is no denying it now; this is her mother, Lady Catelyn Stark, back from the grave.

"Mommy." Arya says, still walking. Her voice smaller and younger than she's ever heard it sound. Her mother takes her hand from her throat and spreads her arms in invitation. With her throat free, Arya can see a ragged gash nearly splitting her neck open. It looks fatal, Arya thinks, it was fatal, she knows. She's right about the gray skin, but on closer inspection sees pieces hanging off the bone. There's a smell, one of bodies left to stew, soaked in water, bloated and stretched thin.

"My daughter." Catelyn doesn't bother putting her hand on her neck wound, but Arya can still hear her, she has to concentrate though. With no more hesitation she runs into her mother's arms, sobbing and clutching tight. The skin is cold and stiff beneath her fingers, she doesn't feel like her mother, or smell like her. But when she feels stiff, claw-like fingers comb through her hair, she knows this is the closest she will ever get. Arya feels tear after tear escape down her cheek when one of her mother's nails gets stuck in a clump of braid; the nail stays put, but a bloody clump of hair comes loose. Arya doesn't flinch, doesn't move away.

"Arya." She hears, filled with concern, and knows its Gendry, but can't look away. Won't lose one instant with her.

After what feels like hours and seconds both, it is her mother who releases her first. Her mother pulls away to look at her daughter's face, lovingly stroking her cheek, broken fingers scratching her skin. "Beautiful." Her mother says, brownish tears welling in her eyes. And then her mother's palm leaves her face, a smile graces the cold, blue lips, and suddenly the woman falls to the ground.

"No!" Arya screams. She drops to her knees, cradling her mother's body. But as her fingers grasp flesh, the skin disintegrates, putrefying into a disgusting puddle. She keeps digging through the mush, strands of auburn hair and hard white bones beneath her fingers. She gags, but keeps going, unable to stop, trying to keep some part of her here, some part of her mother alive. Strong arms lift her up and pull her away.

"Stop, Arya. Please stop. She's gone." And she stares at Gendry then, recognizing utter pity on his face. It's then she knows. She shoves him with all her might.

"You knew." She accuses, not asks. He is mute.

"You knew! Didn't you? Didn't you!" She yells, shoving him again.

"Arya, I didn't know what to say. I knew it would only hurt you. I was trying to protect you." He defends.

"Protect me?" She starts laughing hysterically. "Protect me?" She shoves him once more. "Stay away from me." And she walks away from him, ignoring the looks of The Brotherhood, stomping with purpose towards the open woods and away from The Inn.

"Arya!" He bellows, commands. And she stops, but doesn't turn around. "You can't go off by yourself." It's an order. She humphs in disagreement.

"He's right, My Lady." She turns around at this. It's Thoros. "It's not safe out there alone. We have many enemies beyond our borders, no one should be out alone." She then looks at each person in-turn, everyone looking sorry for her. "You shouldn't be alone." She's silent for a long moment.

"Fine." She relents. Gendry moves towards her. "No. Not you." Merilee steps forward next, but she waves her off. Arya just turns and keeps walking, but shouts over her shoulder. "Ser Lommy. I am in need of an escort. Please accompany me. Or don't. I don't care." She doesn't have to turn around to know he's looking at Gendry for direction. She thinks she hears footsteps crunching behind her, but does not look back once.

She just keeps walking, no direction, no thought, and no destination. She clomps through bushes, over rocks; she takes lefts, and rights, goes backwards, and in circles. If she keeps moving, she won't have to think, won't have to feel. It was a trick she'd learned in Bravos, just keep working, mindless tasks really, anything to keep from dwelling on the past. Arya hated to feel helpless, unproductive. Unless she has a tangible solution in the works, she chooses instead to escape, to run. Well, in this case, walk, and shut down her brain. In the woods, in the wild, she is no one's daughter, wife, sister, or lady.

"Oye! Stop!" She doesn't.

"Come on, we've been walking for hours." Lommy whines.

"Well you can go piss off then."

"No. Gendry asked me to look out for you. If I go back without you he'll never forgive me."

"Then don't go back. Go wank off on that rock over there. I'll go my way. Everybody wins."

"No." He insists, walking faster until he's behind her.

"Fine then. Do keep up." The flat trail starts to incline, and she has to be more careful with each step, picking her way between uneven stones, steadying herself on loose pebbles.

"Where are we going?"

"Fuck if I know."

"Are you _trying _to get us lost?"

"I'm only kidding. We're going East, clearly."

"Oh, clearly. Except East is that way."

"Well, what's the point of having you here if you can't at least tell direction?" She hears an annoyed scoff behind her, and feels oddly comforted.

"Why did you ask for me?"

"You didn't have to come. You can still go, I told you." Her hands are on her hips as she debates where to place her next step.

"I'm serious. We're not exactly friends."

"That's an understatement." She blows a strand of hair from her face.

"Well then why me?"

"That is why. I thought you wouldn't hassle me or ask me cloying personal questions. Please don't prove me wrong."

"Fine. Forget it."

She can hear him starting to breath heavily behind her, and feels her own chest working doubly hard. She puts a hand to her throat and feels her pulse going wildly, pumping erratically. After that she becomes aware of a jelly feeling in her legs, the muscles tingling and unsteady. And still she pushes on. At one point, the incline gets even steeper, and she has to grasp at weeds and roots to pull herself up.

"Arya, come on." She ignores him. On one particular plant, her fingers slip, the leftover goop making her fingers lose purchase.

"Arya, stop." She keeps trying to climb, getting more and more frustrated, and after one violent attempt, her arms muscles give way as well, and she falls back painfully on her bum, twanging her tailbone on the ground.

"Stop." He says again, but there's no acid behind it.

"No no. Don't talk to me like that."

"Like what? I'm actually trying to get you to see sense."

"I picked you because I know how much you hate me. That's what I need right now, disdain and disinterest." He sits down beside her and sighs.

"I don't hate you." He says.

"Really? You go out of your way to ignore me, when you call me Milady it's like a curse." He scratches at his scalp through the thick blonde curls.

"I know. But it's not really to do with you. I mean, not exactly." At that she starts laughing, snorting for maybe the first time in her life.

"I know."

"No you don't."

"You're in love with Gendry." He looks frightened, like a deer that knows it's in your crosshairs.

"No, I… what?"

"It's okay, I don't care. I don't blame you. I don't see why you have to take it out on me though."

"You don't care?" He seems bewildered.

"No, I mean I hardly think you can help it. And you have good taste at least." He laughs at that before covering his mouth, hardly believing the situation can be humorous. She tries to get up, but her legs won't listen. He winces in sympathy before remembering himself and schooling his features. She appreciates it.

"He was only trying to look after you, ya know. He wasn't trying to hurt you."

"Yeah, then why didn't he tell me? Why didn't you for that matter? I would think you would have gotten a kick out of my pain." He tsks.

"Well, he's in pain too now. You didn't see the look on his face."

"He should have respected me. He should have told me the truth."

"You're right. He should have. I should have. But he meant the best. You know that. Please don't be too mad at him."

"I'm not angry." She admits, feeling the fatigue down to her bones.

"What, but… Why didn't you let him come with you?"

"Because, I couldn't stand to have him look at me like that." His light blue eyes look confused.

"Like what?"

"Like he's worried I'll break, like he's waiting for it. He wants to fix me, make it all better."

"Sounds awful." He says sarcastically. She's glad for his presence.

"There's nothing he can do. Seeing the pity on his face, it makes me feel worse that I don't feel better."

"It's not pity."

"Concern, then." She clarifies.

"Devotion." He says, swallowing. "Come on Arya, let's go back now." She shakes her head.

"No, I can't. I'm not ready." The idea of facing them again makes her breath quicken. "I'm not ready. I'm not. I can't face them. I can't." Her voice catches, and she closes her eyes tight. Slowly she eases her back to the ground, the uneven stones digging into her back open up her lungs and let her breathe. She opens her eyes once more and sees the dark clouds, denser than they were just that morning, heavy and ready to unload. But it won't rain, it's as if they can't let go, won't let themselves. She feels a tentative hand on her shoulder, not expressing pity, but offering support. It's then the clouds have their permission to release their burdens. They start slow, a drop here and there, before gaining the courage to let down sheets of cold lakes, of oceans.

"Shit!" Lommy curses. He gets up, shielding his eyes, looking around them. "We can't stay here." He has to yell to be heard over the rain.

"Which way back to The Inn?" She asks.

"I don't know. But that's hours away, we need to find shelter. Come on."

He guides her lightly, but they still fall over frequently. Squelchy mud and unseen rocks make the path difficult, but eventually they find a sort of shelter in a cave. It's not very big, but they both fit; glad to be safe from the downpour. It's not long before they're both shivering, a fire impossible. Lommy is shaking like a leaf, clearly miserable. She thinks he looks rather cute, damp curls stuck to his head.

"It's cold." She gets out through chattering teeth. He looks at her eyes narrowed, not mentioning it was her fault.

"Yes it is." He agrees. She's more used to the cold than him, so she knows there's only one way to keep warm.

"Here." She draws his attention. "We need to get warm." And she starts peeling off her sodden dress.

"Woah, what are you…?" He looks terrified and maybe a little disgusted.

"Oh, relax. If I thought you'd enjoy it at all I'd choose a frozen death first." Without looking at her at all he strips too. They lay back to back to stay warm, and it's when her body stops shaking from the cold that she starts to cry silent tears. If he feels it, he says nothing, and this feigned invisibility allows her to cry herself to sleep. Tears for her mother that she could finally admit was truly gone.

Bonus Gendry Chapter

Where are they? Where the hell are they? They had been gone for hours and hours, and still he stayed put. He knew she needed space and that his face was the last she would want to see. But when the storm hit, the trail washed out, and he couldn't see five feet in front of his face; his worry turned to true panic. They had to physically hold him back to keep him from running off blindly. They said he'd never find them in this. That they'd found shelter before the storm got too violent. He knew they were right, but the waiting near killed him. He imagined her cold and wet, tired and hungry. But more than that, he imagined her angry and hurting

And so, when the storm finally broke the next morning, he was determined to go out and look, Gods help the men who tried to stop him. No one did, both Tom and Anguy agreed to go with him. Anguy due to his skill at tracking, and Tom to keep Gendry sane. Merilee offered to come too, but Gendry insisted she stay. He wanted someone Arya trusted here to welcome her back, keep her calm, and convince her to give Gendry a chance to apologize without screaming and pushing. She understood immediately, and promised to get things settled while he was gone, whatever that meant.

They started off the way he thought he'd seen Arya go, but quickly found they had no idea which way to go next. Anguy said he noticed the grass looked more trampled going off in one direction, but Gendry didn't think it looked any different. They continued on. Not one hour later, Gendry was relatively sure they were going in circles. And he was getting angry.

"What the fuck, Anguy? Do you have any idea where we're going?" Gendry asks, exasperated.

"I'm only trying to help."

"You're a big fucking help."

"Now now, Gendry. We all know you're worried. But this isn't helping." Tom scolds.

"No, you're not helping, you're useless. She's out there right now…" He rubs his palm across his mouth.

"She's not alone." Tom reasons. "Lommy's with her."

"Yeah, Lommy." Anguy comments, a bit of underlying sarcasm.

"He knows the roads as well as any of us. He'll have found a safe place for them for the night. He'll look after her."

"Yeah, I'm sure he's doing a great job."

"For fucksakes, Anguy, you're not helping." Gendry exclaims.

"I'm just saying, if I'd gone with her, I would have had her back by now." Anguy asserts, ruffling his fine brown hair.

"Good for you, Anguy. Let's go back, ey." Tom says.

"Right, because you're so good with her." Gendry says.

"I understand her, yeah. I wanted to tell her, 'member? If you'd listened to me in the first place, none o' this woulda happened." Anguy retorts.

"Shut up, Anguy." Tom warns.

"Oh, so you were gonna tell her when you were off having 'archery lessons?" Gendry taunts.

"What are you implyin'?" Anguy asks.

"Like I don't know what your 'lessons' with girls are like. You find excuses to press against them, touch them…"

"You think I would do that with your wife?"

"Why not? You seem to have no problems staring at her shamelessly." Gendry accuses.

"Alright, that's enough now…" Tom mediates.

"So what if I look? You should be glad you have a desirable wife." Anguy reasons, casually scratching his stubble.

Gendry looks about ready to punch him, But Tom stands in between them. He holds Gendry off, but directs his words to Anguy. "What is wrong with you. The man is clearly hanging by a thread. He's about to snap and I'm gonna let him beat the crap outta you. Is that what you want?" It's then that Anguy takes a close look at Gendry, heavy breathing signifying imbalance.

"Look, I wouldn't touch her, alright? You're my friend, Gendry. I'd never steal your wife. I was just looking is all. I mean, we've all thought about her naked sure enough." It was the wrong thing to say, and no sooner did the words leave his mouth than Gendry punched him full-force in the jaw. True to his word, Tom did not interfere. Anguy got in a few well-aimed hits, but Gendry's rage and irrationality gave him strength; that and his 40 plus pounds of muscle and five extra inches of height. After a few minutes of rolling in the mud, Tom did come between them, Gendry letting him as his anger spilt out. He looked over at Anguy's mangled face and almost felt a bit of remorse. Tom checked the archer over and helped him up, making sure he could stand on shaky feet.

"Alright there, idiot?" Tom asks him.

"Yeah. You're welcome by the way." He says to Gendry, grinning. Tom actually laughs outright at that. It's as Gendry gets himself up off the ground that he realizes Anguy had done it on purpose. He was trying to give Gendry a release for all of his anger, fear, and helplessness.

"Sorry, Anguy." Gendry says sheepishly.

Anguy spits out blood. "It's alright. Let's just get back now, aye." Gendry agrees, if only to get back and split up properly, four groups, searching in each direction would cover a lot more ground.

They arrive back to The Inn, exhausted, disheartened, and chastened. They find the others calmly lounging about, in high spirits, if somewhat subdued. Gendry is furious that the others are so calm when his wife is out there, missing, with… When he sees Lommy hunched on a bench, being given stew, barely awake, he rushes over.

"Where is she?" He demands.

Lommy stands up calmly. "She's fine, Gendry. She's in the forge, probably passed out right now." He answers. Gendry still can't relax, not until he sees her safe. He nods once to Lommy, before hurrying inside. He hears Merilee tsk at Anguy and say 'men' under her breath.

He resists the urge to call out to her, not wanting to wake her if she is asleep. In fact he knows he should probably leave her be altogether until she's ready, but he knows he won't be able to breathe properly until he sees her with his own two eyes. She's not downstairs, the site of their earlier tryst, so he climbs the stairs two at a time to the little room located above.

At the top of the stairs he sees the green dress in a heap on the floor, completely ruined. The little bed has a lump in the middle, covered by a thick quilt. The lump is unmoving, but he can see dark brown hair sticking out the top. He should be satisfied with this, he knows, but feels compelled to see her face. He toes off his boots and walks closer, carefully pulling back the sheet until he sees her lovely face, serene in sleep. It should be enough, but it's not. He leans in close, just enough to feel little puffs of her breath on his face, also allowing him to smell her hair, which has a rather unpleasant odor. Still, he's not satisfied; he needs to feel her warm skin beneath his palm. He pulls the blanket back further to expose her bare shoulder, knowing all the while that she might wake up and scream his head off, but he doesn't care. He lightly caresses her shoulder, still soft despite the layer of filth.

She stirs, not waking, but coos, and moves closer. He has no idea if it will make things worse, but he knows he won't be able to relax unless he's holding her, and in that instant he's so suddenly exhausted. He strips down as well and gets in beside her, pulling the quilt over them, and pulling her in close. It's only moments before he's fallen asleep.

Bare footsteps padding across the floor wake him. Arya doesn't stir, which is odd; she's a much lighter sleeper than he is. But she'd had quite a time recently, emotionally as well as her disappearance for a day and a half. He supposes the steps might be a dog or a cat, so he doesn't bother himself. The extra weight on the bed does concern him, and he looks up just in time to see Melisandre, naked and ethereal and fearsome, pleased grin upon her face, wicked blade clutched in her fist. Only it's not his heart she's poised to stab, she's hovered over Arya's vulnerable bare back. He wants to fight, he wants to kill her, but he finds his hands tied above his head, like last time. He's helpless, and he can't protect her. He can only yell, 'Stop, No!'

And then there are gentle fingers stroking his hair and soft lips on his, then his cheek, down his jaw. His eyes open, and his heart slows down at the realization that it's Arya.

"You're okay now, it was just a dream." Her grey eyes are kind, warm.

"Oh, Arya, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Shhh. It's fine. You were crying out, it was worse than the last time." She tells not asks. He nods; only concentrating on the feel of her warmth beneath the blanket, concentrating on the steady beat of her heart, letting his own match hers.

She sighs and sits up, wrapping the quilt around her front.

"I'm sorry, Arya. I should have told you."

"Don't apologize. I'm not mad." But she won't look at him.

"No?" He puts his hand on her shoulder; she flinches, but doesn't pull away.

"No. I understand. You were trying to protect me."

"I was. And I didn't know how to tell you. I hoped I wouldn't have to." She turns her head around to look at him.

"I know."

"Please forgive me." She wipes her face with her hand.

"I do forgive you, Gendry, but…" That pause is one of the longest in his life. "I think we need to talk." She turns all the way around then, so they're facing each other. "We need to decide what kind of marriage we're going to have." His heart picks up again.

"What do you mean?"

"You kept something from me, something huge. I know you wanted to protect me, I get that. I've kept things from you. I was trying to protect you in my own way too, I suppose. I'm just as guilty." What things, he worries. "And that's not the same as lying, it's omission. We can keep it up if you like. But here and now we need to decide, are we going to protect each other, or trust each other?"

"I do trust you." He says without hesitation.

"No. You didn't trust that I could handle it. And admittedly, I didn't react the best. But maybe a head's up would have made a difference."

"You're right."

"It's up to you, Gendry. I'll let you decide. I won't take anything from you you don't want to give." She runs her fingers through her hair, trying unsuccessfully to untangle the knots atop her head. When her fingers get particularly stuck, she just pulls harder, and he winces in sympathy. He reaches over and gently untangles the tangle, smoothing it down as best he can.

"My nightmare." He starts, and she gives him her full attention. "It's the same, or, about the same thing, it was different this time. But, it's always her. It's always Melisandre."

"The Red Woman?" Her eyes gets wider.

"She was… we… She's the one I…" Why can't he say it?

"Oh." Apparently he doesn't have to. "She's very beautiful." She says.

"Yes." He agrees. "And heartless." He swallows deeply.

"She hurt you." He nods. "She broke your heart?" He laughs at that, but there's no humor behind it.

"No, I mean she _hurt_ me." He scratches his bicep until it turns whiter, not looking at her. "She found me, said I was special. She said my blood made me important, that I was meant for great things. No one had ever thought anything o' me before." Now that he's started, he can't stop. "I believed her o' course. The way she talks, and walks and stares into you. She seemed to know everythin'." He can't concentrate on speaking right. "And then I thought she wanted me. She took off her clothes, and… well you know how I get, I couldn't even think. But she didn't want me, she wanted my blood. She took me, and then she tied me down. She put leeches all over me, I begged her not to, but she didn't even slow, didn't even flinch. She did some kinda spell with it, I don't know what, I don't wanna know."

When he feels her hands cover his own he finally looks at her. She's understanding and patient.

"And then what?"

"She wanted to sacrifice me." Arya sucks in a startled breath at that. "Ser Davos convinced my uncle to spare me, but it was a close call. In my dreams, she's here, laughing, drawing blood or hurting you, and I can't move. I'm helpless and weak just like back then." He says ashamed. She takes his hand and kisses it.

"So she is a witch then?" She asks. He shrugs.

"I dunno what she is exactly. She says her power comes from The Red God, but it's terrible. And it's real."

"What else can she do?" He's surprised at the line of her questioning.

"Besides bloodletting and ritual sacrifice? I dunno. She tells my uncle what to do, says she can see things in the fires."

"And it's true, what she sees? Has she ever been wrong, or lied?" She's very intent on his answer, and the hands holding his squeeze even harder.

"I don't know. Why are you asking, Arya?" She doesn't answer, debating on what to say.

"I didn't believe in The Red God, not even when you told me about Thoros. But now that I've seen…" She swallows painfully. "She spoke to me." He sits straight up at that.

"Melisandre?" She nods. "What, what did she say?"

She has a sad smile on her face. "She said I would never bare a stag." He feels as though someone just kicked him in the chest.

"And do you, do you believe her?"

"I don't know." She says honestly.

"When did… How did she…?"

"At the wedding, she sought me out to deliver her warning. And then she just disappeared."

"Maybe she was just trying to unnerve you. Or get back at me. She has been wrong. Her visions aren't always clear. You can't put too much stock in that evil woman." He reassures her, not at all sure if he believes his own words.

"I hope you're right." She doesn't quite believe him either.

"I don't care. No matter what, I don't care. It doesn't matter to me either way." He swears. She smiles at him, but it doesn't meet her eyes.

"But it does matter. Or it will." He opens to mouth to deny it again but she silences him. "You didn't read the contract did you?"

"What contract? Oh the marriage contract. Uh, no." He doesn't admit that he'd tried to, but despite Ser Davos' lessons in reading and writing, he still had difficulty with big words.

"Your Uncle Stannis promised me the men for The North, but only once a Baratheon heir is produced."

"What?! He can't do that." He's furious at his uncle's meddling. "I'll talk to him, I'll make him do as he promised, Arya. I swear it…"

"I already talked to him." She cuts him off. "He's agreed to a compromise." She's not looking at him again.

"What compromise?"

"I was trying to protect you. I knew it would hurt you."

"What compromise?"

"To turn you into a proper lord, an heir he could be proud of. He's going to inspect you and decide if I've fulfilled my end." He chokes at that, and she looks guilty.

"Ah, so that's what all the lessons were about. You're meant to fix me." She grimaces.

"Yes. Imagine picking me though, I hardly set a good example." She tries to joke.

"You should have told me."

"Yes." She agrees simply. "I should have trusted you. And I don't want to change you, Gendry. Not a bit." He gathers her close, and she wraps her arms around him in turn.

"We'll figure this out." He whispers into her shoulder, kissing the spot near her neck. "One way or another, together."

"Okay." She agrees, nodding. "But, can we go back to sleep now?" He pulls her back down and they get comfortable once more, settling against each other. They're both still, but neither falls back asleep, minds working furiously.

A/N: Okay, so that was a large chunk. I wanted to post a bunch before I go on vacation because I won't be able to update for a while. If you get antsy, please read my other fic called For Want of a Better King: s/10854771/1/For-Want-of-a-Better-King

Review review review please. Remember, these don't just write themselves.


	15. Almost to Storm's End

A/N: Okay, I'm back from my vacation and ready to go. I think the couple is doing really well, they're starting to be truly honest with each other. However, things can't be perfect for long. Some of you might not like this chapter, and that's okay. But I promise, there are HUGE plot turns ahead, and everything that happens has a purpose.

Almost to Storm's End

Arya

True to her word, Merilee had prepared everything. When Arya and Gendry awoke, at almost the same time, there was soap and water for bathing, and a set of clean clothes laid out. They helped each other wash, finding places the other had missed, and so the entire process took much longer than it should have, but neither minded.

They emerged clean, dressed sharply in pants and tunics. This was Arya's last set of clothing; it was a good thing Storm's End was so close; she was getting a little sick of the constant travelling. And she definitely did not want to stay here, in this place. When they left, they would be taking something important with them. Merilee had gone so far as to clean her mother's bones, wrap them carefully, and place them alongside her father's in the trunk. It was a thoughtful gesture, and Arya was thankful her parents would get to be together again.

It was a tearful goodbye as they bid adieu to Tom and Anguy. Arya was surprised at her display of affection, it was truly uncommon for her. Anguy said they would get to hunt with a bow and arrow some day, and that she had better practice until then. Tom said he was half way through with the ballad, and he would call it _The Bastard Blacksmith Baratheon and The Beautiful She-Wolf_, but he hadn't settled on that title yet. He promised to play it for her when they next met.

She saw Thoros off to the side, scraggly hair pulled into a messy bun, watching with intelligent eyes. She decided to talk to him, well, give him a piece of her mind.

"Thoros, Priest of The Red God. We never really got the chance to speak."

"My Lady Baratheon. No, I suppose not. A shame that. I would have liked to speak with you at length."

"As would I. I have more than a few words for you, none of them pleasant."

"You're angry." He observes.

"How could you do that? Turn her into… that? It was wrong, and you know it. You should have left her in peace." She points a finger at him accusingly.

"I didn't bring her back. That was Lord Beric. He gave up his life for hers. I would have never given her the gift, I could see she was gone too long."

"But you let her go on. You could have stopped it, could have ended her suffering, but you didn't." She clenches her jaw.

"Aye. But I'll not be judged by the likes of you." He says.

"A woman, you mean."

"No, a lady. You highborns can judge us all you like, tell us what to do, but you're not here. You weren't here. You've no idea what it's like. You start wars, and it's us who fight in 'em. I'll not apologize for the choices I made."

"You're right. I don't know what it's been like here." She says, watching Gendry with the little orphans. "But don't think I haven't been fighting too, in my way. I've lost as well."

"And it's not over yet, you should know that better than most. Take care, My Lady." He leaves her at this. It takes her a moment to think on the meaning of his words. But soon it came to her, the Stark words. _Winter is coming_. Always. Was he making fun of her, being overly cautious, or did he see things like Melisandre? There would be more fighting, that she did not doubt. But what more could she possibly have to lose?

Gendry took the time to say goodbye to each of the children in turn, asking them to come visit when they got settled, promising that they would need brave soldiers and loyal bannermen amongst them. The children loved him for it. Arya felt very awkward watching, and while she wasn't so much jealous, she got a true sense of what she had taken from these people. From one tall brunette in particular. She sought the woman out from within the Inn, apparently she hadn't come out to say goodbye.

"Jeyne." She called, wanting to give the woman a chance to ignore her if need be.

"Here." The woman called back. She found Jeyne wiping up tables, keeping busy.

"Hi." She says.

"Hi." Jeyne responds.

"We're leaving. I thought you might want to say goodbye. To Gendry, I mean." That wasn't why she had come in.

"We said what needed to be said. We've had our goodbyes." But she stops wiping.

"I just. I wanted to meet you, I guess. Thank you."

"Thank me? For what?"

"For Gendry." She scoffs at that.

"I didn't give him to you. And you didn't take him. He left, that doesn't really have much to do with either of us." Jeyne puts a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Still. I wanted to give you, something." She takes out a large ruby, one of the stones from the recovered pack and holds it out to the woman, who makes no move to take it. In fact her eyebrows rise in fury.

"What the Hell is that? Do you think you can buy him from me like livestock?" She is truly offended, and Arya wants to kick herself for the unintended slight. She quickly backtracks.

"No. I mean of course not. There's no price, no amount that would be enough. I just, I just wanted you to know that I know how valuable he is, beyond gold or jewels. And without him… I can't imagine. I don't want to. I just thought, with the children, perhaps it would help…" She breaks off. Jeyne takes the jewel, but doesn't look at her, or say thank you. Not that she would expect as much.

"Just look after him, yeah. He works so hard, he forgets to eat sometimes. Or sleep, or bathe. You'll have to remind him." She says kindly.

"I'll look after him." Arya promises.

Gendry enters and Jeyne quickly hides the jewel behind her back, which Arya is glad for. He looks extremely uncomfortable seeing the two of them together.

"Arya. Jeyne." He swallows. "What are you two talking about?" Arya decides to tease him a bit.

"Oh you know, girly secrets. Apparently we have a lot in common." Jeyne tries very hard to hide a smile at his discomfort.

"Apparently so." Jeyne agrees. He looks nervously back and forth between the two of them.

"I'll be outside." Arya says, giving them some peace. As she walks past Willow, the little girl gives her a dirty look. She only smiles at the child, and receives none in return.

Merilee is waiting with a knowing look.

"What did you two talk about?"

"Just… coming to terms."

"I noticed one of the jewels is missing." Merilee is far too observant.

"Leave it."

There is more hugging before they set out.

She was still emotional, even hours later on the road, very unusual for her. She also felt tired and not a little cranky. It wasn't until she felt the sensation of repeated kicks to the gut that she understood why. At the best of times, she disliked this monthly event, but now especially it seemed another bad omen of the dreaded prophecy.

Gendry was sweet and attentive, and she kind of wanted to hit him. But she curbed the impulse, mastering her emotions as best as she could. She had to make frequent stops, and when Gendry tried to come with her, she had to insist against it. This brought on his patented kicked-puppy look.

They were very close to Storm's End, and they could all tell that Gendry was very nervous. Brent, Rik, and Begby decided to take his mind off of things by getting Gendry to spar with them. He reluctantly agrees, and this immediately lifts Arya's mood considerably. Arya has always loved fighting with swords, the skill of battling an opponent, the rush of the attack and defense.

She watches them, and is quite impressed with Gendry. He's strong, has quick reflexes for his size, and takes a hit quite well. It's by the second match that he takes his shirt off, and Arya is upset all over again about her monthly visitor.

"Arya. Arya." A hand waves in front of her face. It's Merilee trying to get her attention, clearly amused at her friend's distracted gaze.

"What?" She snaps, to which Merilee sucks her teeth.

"Woah. What did I do?"

"Sorry." She amends. "I'm not myself."

"You too, huh?" Merilee asks.

"Ugh." Arya moans in answer. "How come you're acting so normal?"

"I'm used to being around lots of women, all in sync. I've even had to work mid-flow. This situation is a piece of cake." Annoyingly cheerful. Now she wanted to punch Merilee. Instead she interrupts the boys.

"Hey, I want a turn." She shouts, walking towards them. They stop immediately, mid-swing.

Begby laughs heartily at that, and Gendry smiles condescendingly. He must notice the look on her face, because his smile drops immediately.

"Arya, come on."

"What?" She asks, arms crossed.

"I mean. You can't."

"I can't what? Fight? I've killed men before. I've watched the life leave their eyes." Poor Brent looks a little frightened.

"Ummm. Honey. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"I won't get hurt. I'm better than you think. I trained with Syrio Forel, The First Sword of Bravos."

"Bravos?" Begby stares at her, doubtful. "Where they prance around with twigs?"

Arya's eyes widen to twice their normal size.

"No, it's called the Water Dance."

"A dance. Pfft." He answers simply.

"Come on. Right now. You and me." She says, finding a few good-sized sticks.

"Arya, you're not doing this." Gendry says.

"Excuse me?"

"You're going to get hurt. Some dance won't exactly do much against swords…" Gendry reasons.

"What do you know? I could beat you." He outright laughs at that. And Arya hits him with her stick on his arm. He looks shocked, but doesn't stop laughing.

"It's not funny. And your footwork is sloppy, you don't even stand sideface." She comments.

"Arya…"

She hits him again, on the other side. He isn't laughing now. This is what she needed.

"What's wrong, Gendry. Forgot how to fight?" She smiles now.

"We're not doing this." But he lifts his stick up in defense.

She aims for his leg, but he blocks her.

"Good, you can block." She taunts, immediately hitting him on the other leg.

"Ow." He exclaims, not faking.

Rik laughs at Gendry's pain.

Gendry lets himself get distracted, and she uses the opportunity to hit the same arm from before.

He looks a bit angry, and holds his stick harder, widening his stance, and looking intent. Good. She smiles wider.

They spar for a bit, but they're somewhat evenly matched. He's holding back, but only in force, he's really getting into this. The cramps, the bloating, the disappointment, it all dissolves into nothing. He is paying close attention, trying to discern her pattern, and failing. She shows no mercy.

He gets in one good hit to her shoulder, maybe a bit harder than he intended, and she drops her 'weapon' and clutches the injured spot. Gendry immediately drops his stick, looking horrified.

"Arya, I'm so…"

"Calm down. I'm fine." She's still rubbing her sore shoulder absent-mindedly. Syrio would not be proud of this performance, she was really out of practice.

"No you're not, you're hurt. Fuck, I knew this was a bad idea."

"Why? We were practicing. People get hurt sometimes. It's not a big deal." She'll need more practice.

"It is though, Arya. You're just a girl."

"Just a girl?" She shouts incredulous.

"Gendry, be careful man, they're always crazy when they're bleeding." Rik warns. To which Merilee slaps him quite hard on the backside of the head.

Arya, embarrassed, both at the comment and her overreaction to the pain, walks away, afraid she'll either stab one or all of them, or start crying. Damn emotions.

Of course, not five minutes later, she hears footsteps approaching.

"Damnit, Gendry. Don't follow me every time I walk away. That's kind of the point."

"Okay. Can you explain to me exactly what I did?" Always so calm and reasonable.

"No. But I will tell you this is one of those times where you should really keep your distance if you don't want to come to any bodily harm."

"I'll risk it."

"Oh, right, you think I'm just some weak little girl. Incapable and helpless." She could almost agree, that showing earlier was pathetic.

"You're not helpless. You're scaring the shit outta me right now." He says honestly. She rolls her eyes but says nothing more.

"I'm sorry?" He guesses.

"You don't think we're equals." She says, slightly less angry.

"No, we're not." And she's furious again.

"You're way better." She blinks slowly at that. "You're smarter, lovelier. And in many ways your much much stronger. But I'm bigger than you, Arya. If you get hurt... I can't have that. I couldn't live with myself." She blows out a big puff of air, completely at a loss.

"Just stop." She says with an angry undercurrent.

"What is this really about?" He rubs the back of his neck confused.

"I just told you." She deadpans.

"Is this about what Rik said? The bleeding?" She's actually surprised he's saying so many wrong things. It's really not like him. Although she does entertain the notion that she's being a bit extra sensitive.

"Okay, I'm just going to come out and tell you this, because it's clear you just don't know any better. Like a child. That particular subject is not something you should ever ask about, nor should you pick a fight with me in this moment. Unless there are swords involved. Clear?"

"Wait. He was right? Are you okay?" He has so much concern in his dark blue eyes, that she feels a bit sorry for him.

"Yes. It's not really a big deal though." And it isn't. Maybe she has been letting it get to her. No, his laughter directed at her and overreaction to a little bruising was extremely condescending and insulting. And her own disappointment, how could she have let herself get so sloppy?

"It is a big deal. If you're bleeding it could be serious." And now she's concerned, how does he not know these things, how has he survived this long in the world without her?

"No, it's normal. All women get it every month." At his blank look, she elaborates. "It's how we have babies."

"You're pregnant?" At the mix of excitement and terror on his face, a hollowness settles in where the cramps were before.

"No. It means I'm _not_ pregnant." His countenance turns to pity.

"Oh, is that what's getting to you?" Before she can tell him to fuck off, he puts his arms around her and holds her close. "I'm not worried. I don't believe her. And anyway we haven't been married for long. We still have time." She wants to be angry at his easy dismissal, but she does feel a bit better despite herself. She wants to believe him, she really really does. "Unless you're worried I won't live up to my end of the bargain. That I'll disappoint my uncle." Aww fuck.

"No. Well, yes. But that's nothing to do with you. Stannis is just such a joyless, judgmental, pretentious prick. Who can predict how he'll react?"

"We'll make him. I told you that. I promised, didn't I? Don't you have faith in me?" She's now beginning to suspect he's an evil genius. Somehow he's completely turned the fight around so now he's the wronged party. Damnit.

"Of course I do." He kisses her forehead lovingly.

But just in case, she means to train extra hard once they reach Storm's End. It won't do to freeze up over every little hurt and bruise. Married life wouldn't make her weak.

A/N: Okay, so I just wanted to write this scene as a departure from the main plot. Oh Gendry, you never stop being adorable. I find his cluelessness cute; I just can't seem to write him any other way. And did he manipulate her? Who knows? Arya's not always level headed, we all know she throws a lot of tantrums. She really needs to get past that. Also, for the story later, I can't have Arya be too good with a blade. She has a background with Syrio, but never got the chance to be great. She will rise above though, of course.

Up Next- Gendry meets his cousin, learns a bit more about Arya's past, takes on responsibilities at Storm's End, and gets into some trouble. Review please!


	16. Storm's End

A/N: It's been a long while in between chapters, and I'm sorry. But the truth is, the other story was calling to me and I've made great progress. Gendry and Arya are just too good together, and since my other story now features them on the road, my imagination just went wild.

Storm's End

Gendry

He was nervous. Storm's End was looming in the distance, beautiful and mysterious, and he felt- unworthy. Arya notices his hesitation and grabs his hand, weaving her fingers through his. He breathes out through his nose. If she thought he was worthy, then who was he to argue?

In fact, when he looked over at her he saw her swallow gruffly.

"What is it?" He asks.

"I just. I just wish I had something proper to wear." She admits, looking over her pants and tunic. At this he actually chuckles.

"You never cared before." He points out.

"But it's your family, your home. I'd rather make a good impression this time." She's biting her lip. He kisses her fingers from between his own, she smiles a bit at him, and he does feel better instantly.

"They'll be impressed alright." He remarks. To which she actually sticks her tongue out at him. The men giggle behind them.

They ride up, and a guard stops them. "Who goes there?" The guard enquires.

She squeezes his hand once in reassurance. "Lord and Lady Baratheon, Heir to Storm's End." The man looks skeptical, but takes a closer look at Gendry's thick head of black hair and sparkling blue eyes, then rushes to open the gate.

They ride in, and Gendry is relieved at how easy that was. It had taken a lot for him to call himself Lord Baratheon, but the man hadn't even questioned it. Arya didn't look at all surprised; perhaps he really did belong here.

It's beautiful, the waves crashing along the shore, dark towers blocking the sun; it represents power. Upon their entrance, they're greeted by an older steward with greying hair, a serving woman who was twice the size around as Hot Pie, and a stiff guard, with hair as black as his own. They all took turns welcoming them, giving him the run-down of the castle, complaining about how little notice they'd had, and asking if he needed anything. He just nodded to make it look like he understood, but he was completely overwhelmed. Behind a corner he saw a petite young woman stick her head out, before disappearing back out of view. The guard, Daryn, offered to show Hot Pie, Lommy, and the others to their quarters. The steward, Maester Elwin, had a lot of 'imperative questions' and Arya, noticing his distress, volunteered to go with him and answer what she could. She kissed him goodbye, and the look he gave her of abandonment made her pause, but she just scooted him along in encouragement and followed the older gentleman.

The round and cheerful serving woman was delighted to have a new young master, or so she said, and gushed about the food that would be prepared, asked how he wanted his rooms set up, and expressed a desire to see babies running around the castle. He was actually quite glad Arya had left before that, as he knew such talk would only upset her. He'd told her it didn't matter to him, and that was true. He was happy just to have her. Babies could come later. But of course, there was also his uncle and his demands to contend with. Just the thought of his uncle's interference made him clench his fist in anger. It didn't help that Arya hadn't let him touch her since the morning of their departure from the Brotherhood. Her moon's blood she'd said. He believed her, but he didn't really understand what it actually meant. How could a woman bleed and not need healing? If he cut himself, he didn't think it would stop him from wanting his wife. He'd gone much longer without before, but that was before Arya. He never did understand women, so he would just let her tell him when it was alright again. But Gods he was tense.

Merilee surprisingly offered to help, Marta, her name was, to get their things sorted and their rooms prepared, and she too left him. He was glad to be rid of them, but now he had no idea what to do with himself or where he was meant to go. The girl popped out from behind the corner again, and this time he got a good look at her. She was a short little thing with light brown hair; she was covered head to toe in fine black cloth. She was young too he thought, 12 or 13, and one side of her face was marked with grey. For an instant he thought it some sort of stain or leftover dirt, but the closer he got he recognized it as grey scale; and he concluded that this was his cousin Shireen.

"Hullo." He greeted. She looked startled, but didn't disappear again. "Are you, Shireen?" She nods, careful to keep her grey flesh towards the shadows.

"Are you my cousin?" She asks. He smiles at that. It feels weird, but pleasant to be called such.

"Aye." He answers, all the while approaching her slowly. She's obviously quite timid, and he doesn't want to scare her off.

"My Lord." She says and curtsies to perfection.

"None o' that. It's Gendry, please."

"Gendry, then." And he smiles widely at her.

"Can I call you Shireen, then? Or cousin? Or…"

"Shireen is fine." She answers, smiling shyly. They're both silent for a bit, unsure what else to say. So he speaks next.

"Do you know where I'm supposed to go, Shireen? I have no idea where anything is."

"Oh, certainly. Do you want to get to the main hall or your rooms?" She asks.

"Uh… Maybe start with the kitchens and go from there?" He suggests helpfully. "I would be much obliged to have a guide." She nods excitedly and motions him to follow, waiting patiently. As he gets close to her he sees how short she is, reaching only a little above his elbow. She's fast though, her little legs moving furiously, his longer legs have no trouble keeping up, only requiring one step for each of her two, two and a half.

"The kitchens." She introduces. "Lunch has already passed, but of course they'll give you anything you want. My favorite is the lamb stew. They make it really nice with basil in it."

"I love lamb stew, all stew really. Hot Pie uses rosemary in his, but basil sounds good."

"Hot Pie?" She questions. He chuckles.

"He's my friend, and a great cook. I'm sure he'll want to mess around in here a bit."

"But… is his name really Hot Pie?" She looks truly perplexed.

"I dunno, no one's ever asked. You could though, I bet he'd tell you if you asked." She gets him some roast turkey leg and sits with him while he tries it. He declares it delicious between a mouthful of meat, and she giggles behind her hand.

Next she takes him to the library, which she declares to be her favorite place in the whole castle. She talks excitedly, arms flailing animatedly pointing to the different sections. "Here are the sciences; medicines, herbs, stars, maths, prophecies, and the like." She points to the right. "All the great poets and romances, some are even in High Valyrian." She says proudly. "Oh, and of course, the histories, we've a whole section on the Targaryans and their dragons." He can tell this is her favorite.

"Arya will like those, I'm sure. She's always talking about Nymeria and all."

"Arya, your wife, you mean."

"Yeah, you'll like her for sure."

"She's pretty. I like her pants." She smiles, then looks down as if she's said something wrong.

"Me too." He says.

"What do you like to read?" She asks.

"Not much to be honest. I can't read too well. Ser Davos was teaching me, but…" At the mention of The Onion Night her face truly lights up.

"Ser Davos? How is he?"

"Alright, last I saw him. He'll prolly come back soon, he and Sta… your father are set to visit soon." She completely ignores the part about Stannis.

"I taught Ser Davos to read. I can certainly help you too."

"I don't want to bother you."

"Oh, it's no bother. Writing too. I have excellent penmanship." She proclaims proudly. Her blue eyes are fully alight now, and he can see the resemblance. He decides he rather likes having a cousin. She takes his hand and pulls him along to the yard, the stables, the grand hall, and finally his room.

"Thank you, Shireen. I would have been truly lost without you. You're the best." He says, meaning it. He kisses her on her grey scale cheek. She looks shocked, but quickly hides it.

"Will I see you for dinner?" She asks through her lashes.

"O' course. You have to meet Arya too." She scampers off and he feels completely at ease. Storm's End was in fact huge, but with a little cousin to show him around, and a wife to help deal with his lordly tasks, he wasn't so worried.

Upon entering his chambers he finds it is already occupied. A cute little bottom is gathering the broken pieces of a vase from off the floor, ass wiggling invitingly in the air. He grins; Arya had found something to wear and had made it back before him. What was she doing on the floor cleaning up? He can't seem to help himself, and reaches down to give Arya a playful tickle. He hears a startled yelp and giggle in response and immediately retracts his hands, recognizing that it is not in fact his wife.

The figure gets up, and he can now plainly see it is not Arya, though she has a similar shape. The woman in question, clearly a servant, has a rounder face, lighter hair, and darker eyes.

"I'm sorry." He says. "I thought you were my wife."

She curtsies, her eyes looking down demurely, and huskily says. "No apologies necessary, Milord." Bad, this is very bad. "I'm Kahlen, Milord."

"Still, uh. I'm fine, you can, uh, go now, Kahlen." He dismisses her.

"Of course, Milord." And she curtsies again. Why do women always have to do that? On her way out she purposefully brushes up against him, making sure her breasts make contact with his arm. Gendry is usually pretty oblivious, but even he knows what that means. He says nothing though, too embarrassed to speak.

Before leaving she turns to him once more. "Oh, Milord, one more thing." And she pulls a letter enticingly from her bodice, drawing very close attention to her cleavage. "This came a little over a week ago. I thought you should have it." She says. He takes it from her hand, though she doesn't let it go easily.

"Thank you." He says. Already ignoring her to inspect the letter. After a while he hears the door close and breathes out a sigh of relief. For fucksakes.

The letter isn't actually for him; it's addressed to Arya. And it's already been opened. He places it carefully on the bed, and goes over to the wardrobe to find a new shirt. Inside are dozens of shirts, over shirts, pants, belts, and the like. Many are emblazoned with the Baratheon stag and for a moment he gets the sense that he shouldn't be touching them. But then he remembers these are _his _chambers, it's _his _castle, and the stag is _his _sigil. These clothes are meant for him. On the bottom are a number of pairs of boots, fine leather, in various colors. There is a chest, which houses under things and a few pieces of stag themed jewelry, large gold chains and pins. There is no women's clothing; the late Selyse Baratheon must have stayed in different rooms. He'll have to have some of her things brought in for Arya. He finds a plain shirt and changes into it, the fit and feel exquisite.

He waits for Arya for some time, but gets bored, and then anxious. It feels strange to be there alone, doing nothing. The letter is staring at him, splayed open. He picks it up and then puts it down. He reasons that it could be important, from Danaerys or her brother Jon, or even Stannis. He opens it in the end.

'_My Dearest Arya'_

What, who is Arya dearest to besides him?

'_I am safely in Dorne, they have taken me in adm_…' He's not sure about that word.

'_When I heard you had married that bastard_' He knows that word.

'_I nearly flew back to you. My horr_…' What? Horror? Horrible? Something bad.

'_Aunt forced you into it, I know. And I don't blame you. I think about you daily. The sound of your laugh,_' Log? Oh, laff. Why was it spelled like that?

'_the curve of your breast, the taste of your sweet lips_.' What?!

'_You are welcome here for as long as I live. Today, tomorrow, or ten years from now._' Who the fuck is this?

'_Come to me my love._' Love?

'_Yours faithfully, Aegon Targaryan, Third of His Name, True Ruler of Westeros_'

Aegon… That little blonde-headed, purple-eyed little shit. How dare he? He had no right to talk about his wife's breasts, or her kisses, or even her laughter. What did he know about it? Writing her letters, asking her to run off with him… Were they writing back and forth? Was Arya anticipating this letter? Was she waiting for just such an offer, waiting to escape him?

No. No. That was crazy. She wouldn't do that. But he'd talked about her kisses. Only he should know how sweet her lips tasted. Damn!

He found her in The Rookery, studiously scratching on parchment. Writing correspondence perhaps?

"Arya?" She looks up at him and smiles.

"Gendry. I'm just finishing up this letter, I'll be right with you." And she goes back to her task. A letter to whom?

He walks over and drops the open letter on the desk in front of her, blocking her scribbles. She takes it tentatively.

"Were you writing to him?" He asks before she even gets the chance to look at it. She looks at him instead.

"What is this?" She asks him instead, a crease between her brows. And despite himself he finds it adorable. No, focus!

"You tell me." Her lips are puckered, but she opens the letter to read its contents. Her eyebrows shoot up halfway through, but she reads all of it. "Gendry, I…"

"How long have you been writing him? Were you planning to run away with him, or…"

"Gendry Baratheon! Think very carefully about the next words to come out of your mouth." She warns.

"How does he know about your breasts?" She rolls her eyes.

"I told you about him, Gendry. I never lied. You have more of a 'past' than I do."

"That's different. This Aegon thinks he knows things. He knows too much."

"What exactly are you suggesting?" She crosses her arms in front of her chest, which only makes him angrier.

"How long have you been writing to him?"

"I haven't been. This is the first letter I've seen."

"But he sent it here, Arya. He wants you to run off with him."

"I already knew he was in Dorne. If I wanted him, I would be there now." She responds.

"It's Winterfell you want, not me." She clenches her jaw and shakes her head.

"How dare you." She says calm and controlled, which should really scare him more than anything so far.

"I just want the truth." He demands. She picks up the letter she was writing and slaps it hard against his chest.

"Here, read my clandestine love letter. And when you're done, please be sure to send it by raven." And she storms out, clearly furious.

After a few moments of barely constrained anger, he realizes what he's done. Whatever the circumstance, he shouldn't have let her leave angry. He should have told her she was beautiful, promised her anything, and begged her to stay.

He goes to his late aunt's chambers and knocks several times. He tells her it's time for dinner and Arya shouts through the door that he should 'Go to Hell!' But at least he knows she hasn't left, so he goes down to dinner to fortify himself.

Shireen is all excited to see him, but he can only muster a small smile. They all look at him warily, but noticing Arya's absence, decide to ignore him. Merilee is also notably absent. Of course. It's only Shireen that asks him what's wrong.

"It's… it's. Don't worry, it's none of your concern."

"I want to help. I am a woman, you know." He cracks a smile at that, and before he can change his mind, he leads her out to the empty hall. He shows her Aegon's letter. She cocks an eyebrow while reading, much the same way Arya had. He waits for her to finish this time.

"Well?"

"He sounds like a lovesick fool." She states firmly.

"Yes, but. Should I be worried?" He asks nervously. He can't believe he's asking the advice a little girl. Although, she can read better than he can.

"Well, when did this arrive?"

"Umm, over a week ago."

"And she's been with you all this time?" He nods. "Have you seen her write anything?"

"No, but…"

"Has she had any access to ravens?"

"No, he admits."

"This Aegon obviously sent this recently, it sounds like he hasn't spoken to her since they parted. And while he is a bit overly familiar with her, it doesn't sound too detailed. I've heard more crass poems written about made-up nymphs than this." Oh shit. "Have you shown this to her?"

"Yes." She raises her eyebrows. "And I accused her of…" She covers her face with her hands in disbelief.

"And…"

"She stormed out, but not before giving me this." And he shows her the other letter, the one he hadn't been able to bring himself to read yet. She takes it carefully. She reads it and puts a hand to her heart.

"Aww." She remarks.

"What?" He asks, even more anxious.

"Did you read this?" He shakes his head no. She rolls her eyes.

"Don't you think you should?" She asks as if speaking to a child.

"Read it to me." She tsks, but does as he requests.

"Dear Jon," She starts but he interrupts.

"That's her brother on The Wall." He interjects, but she waves him off.

"I haven't heard from you in so long, I fear the worst. I've heard all sorts of stories about the creatures on The Wall. All I ask is a letter, a sentence, a word. Just let me know you're alive. We're the last, Jon. I'm at Storm's End now, but soon I hope to be on my way home. I swear to you I'll rebuild Winterfell to its original glory and make Father proud."

That's so like her, always concerned with her family's honor.

"I've found his bones. And my mother's too. I know you two didn't get along, but if you'd seen what I'd seen; you'd want her put to rest too. I thought I heard Bran; he called to me. Perhaps I'm going mad, but it pleases me to think of him in the bosom of The Old Gods."

So superstitious, his wife.

"Also, I'm married."

Fantastic, he was an afterthought.

"I know, I swore I never would. Danaerys forced it upon me, it was the only way to strengthen my position in The North."

Was this meant to make him feel better?

"But it's not so bad. He's very kind and he treats me well, so don't worry. His name is Gendry. He's a smith, and a Baratheon. I want you to meet him. I'm sure when you do, you'll love him like I do. One day I hope you will come visit us, you will be very welcome, and finally all will be set to rights. I miss you, brother. Send me word that you're alive and well, I beg you. Love, Arya." Shireen finishes, appropriately awed.

She loved him, or sort of. She said she did.

"Fuck." He simply says.

"Basically." She agrees.

"What do I do now?" He asks, at a loss.

"Get down on your knees and beg her forgiveness." A voice from behind him says.

He looks over to see none other than Arya, looking at him expectantly.

"Arya…" He starts. She's wearing a simple charcoal dress, modest, but lovely on her.

She notices Shireen. "Hello." She greets.

"Uh, hi." Shireen says back nervously.

"Nice to meet you, Shireen, is it?"

"Yes, nice to meet you, My Lady."

"It's Arya, if you don't mind."

"Nice to meet you, Arya."

"Shireen, do you think I might have a moment with my husband?"

"Of course." And she smirks, a tad amused at the predicament, before returning to the dining room. Traitor.

"I'm an idiot." He finishes. She rolls her eyes.

"I know." The way she says it suggest she is expecting more.

"I never should have talked to you like that, or assumed anything untoward. I just love you so much and I got so jealous, I… I can't do this, any of this without you and I…"

"Alright, alright, calm down. The things you said were hurtful." She says.

"Did I mention the part where I love you and I'm an idiot?"

"I should have told you more about Aegon. But the truth is, I'm a bit ashamed about my behavior concerning him." He swallows.

"What do you mean?" He almost doesn't want to know the answer.

"Do you know how I met Danaerys?" He shakes his head no. "I was waiting for something, but I had no idea what. That is until I heard about The Dragon Queen, Breaker of Chains, The Unburnt. Well of course I had to see for myself."

"Of course." He agrees.

"Now that was the hard part. She was very well guarded; no strangers were allowed an audience. And I couldn't just announce myself, I was in hiding. However, I heard that her nephew Aegon, always at her side, was much less cautious. And he had quite the fondness for a certain type of girl." Gendry is getting uncomfortable with where he thinks the story is going, but he doesn't interrupt. "So, I blended in as serving girl and focused my attention on the young dragon. It was rather easy actually; I became something of an amusement to him. It wasn't long before he introduced me to his aunt, and that was that."

"You amused him?" He asks, trying for casual.

"Flirting, touches, jokes, and kisses. It didn't take much. I'm not proud of it. I used him. Obviously I hurt him. I regret that, I regret that very much."

"And he wanted to marry you?"

"Yes, and I would have. Danaerys seemed to press for it. But then it turned out he was a pretender and that was that." He wishes she would stop saying 'that was that'. It made it sound like there was much more to the story that she was leaving out.

"And you ended up stuck with me. At least it sounds like you're not too miserable with me." She sighs dramatically and plucks Jon's letter from his hand.

"Alright, I'll tell you something. But you have to promise not to make a big deal about it."

"Arya, there's no way I can promise that." She is silent, debating whether or not to proceed.

"At the feast, we were seated next to each other. Do you remember?" Of course he remembers. He remembers every moment with her. But he simply nods.

"Well, I may have requested the seat beside yours, to Danaerys, I mean." He is truly shocked at this.

"What?"

"I saw you in the Hall, looking so out of place and nervous. You were a big mess, to be honest." Great, she'd seen that. "I also saw you defend your uncle, even though it was clearly a lost cause." Yes, all that had happened. But he's not sure what she's getting at.

"For fucksakes, I thought you were cute, alright." He's pretty sure his mouth is hanging open.

"Really?"

"Yes. And at dinner, the whole thing with the helping Ser Davos with his meat. Well, when Danaerys looked over at me with a raised eyebrow, a silent way of asking what I thought, I nodded." There's something he's missing, he's sure of it.

"But, but… when she announced it, you were furious. You practically threw a tantrum."

"I did not." She pinches the bridge of her nose to calm down. "Look, I just… I wasn't expecting it so soon, or in front of everyone like that. But yes, in my way, I agreed."

"You chose me." He says in awe.

"I guess I did." She says, not looking at him. And then he picks her up and spins her. "See, I knew you'd make a big deal out of it."

"You chose me." He says again, bringing her in close and pressing their foreheads together.

"I did." She agrees, smiling. "Just stop being such an idiot, yeah?" He agrees, planting kiss after kiss on her lips. He wants to do more, but he knows she's still injured, or 'bleeding' so he pulls away. "Hungry?" He asks instead.

"Ravenous." She answers. And hand-in-hand they enter the dining hall, everyone already digging into the salmon chowder; they seat themselves at the head of the table.

A/N: I'm not sure if this rang true for their characters, but I just really wanted to write this. I needed Gendry to be an idiot, plus it gave him an extra chance to bond with Shireen. I love their cousinly relationship, it's adorable. Gendry and Arya are learning more and more about each other every day. Too bad she's still on her period. Next Chapter- Gendry must deal with Lordly matters, sexy times, and one big mistake. Review please, maybe it will convince me to post the next chapter before I leave on my next vacation… No pressure. Just kidding, mucho pressure! Persuade me to get cracking!


	17. The Hazards and Rewards of Being a Lord

The Hazards and Rewards of Being a Lord

Gendry

Everyone had already dug in by the time he and Arya sat down to eat. He didn't mind of course, but the plump woman, Marta, was scandalized. She was also confused at his refusal of any wine or spirits. Arya didn't have it in her to refuse where drinks were concerned. Shireen is given none, so Gendry accepts a bit of ale and sneakily passes it to her. She looks shocked and thrilled both at the unexpected trick, but her face immediately scrunches up in disgust at the first taste. He laughs out loud at that, and everyone turns to look at him. Apparently, he'd inherited his father's booming laugh. Arya puts her hand on his thigh and smiles at him, then goes back to her chowder. He almost wishes she hadn't done that, it makes the rest of the dinner a blur, and he barely tastes the sour plum ice cream as he wolfs it down.

Shireen cautiously tries another sip, to the same results.

"My brothers always used to sneak me a sip of their beer." Arya comments. "I thought we were being so secretive, but my father knew the whole time."

"Father would never let me try alcohol." Shireen responds.

"Why am I not surprised?" Arya murmurs around her glass.

"Well, you shouldn't have it, I just wanted you to taste it." Gendry explains.

"I don't like the taste anyway." She says.

_You don't drink it for the taste, to be honest._ Yoren had said once.

But just then, there's an, "Oye!" It's Lommy, of all people. "I propose a toast." And everyone raises their glass. "To Lord and Lady Baratheon, may they live long and well." Everyone agrees and glasses clink, followed by hearty chugging. Marta comes around and refills their drinks, but stops at Arya.

"That dress looks lovely on you, Milady." She flatters.

"Oh, it's one of the late Lady Baratheon's." Arya says modestly.

"Still, it suits you Milady." And he has to agree.

"Thank you, uh, I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name." Arya inquires.

"Marta." He whispers loudly. To which Marta looks surprised and pleased to be remembered, hurrying to give him another serving of ice cream.

Shireen is staring at her dessert, and had been since the mention of her mother.

"Alright, then?" He asks. She smiles and nods, but he can tell she doesn't mean it.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't think." Arya apologizes. Wait what, what was he missing? "It was your mother's. I should have asked you first." Oh. Arya looks upset as well.

"No, of course. You're Lady Baratheon now." Shireen insists.

"Yes, but so are you. I'm sure she would have wanted you to have her things." In actuality, Selyse Baratheon had died a few years ago, meaning her things had remained untouched for quite some time.

"I don't think so."

"But there's jewelry, not much, but… after dinner let's take a look together. In fact, there was a blue dress that would look lovely with your eyes." Shireen blushes bright red, unused to compliments; he'll have to make a point of fixing that. Arya looks over at him with a smile, and he feels his heart swell. Family, finally.

He's still eating the rest of the ice cream, when Arya, Shireen, and Merilee get up from the table. He starts to get up as well but Arya puts a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"It's kind of a girl's thing."

"You're not still mad are you? Are you coming to the room tonight?" The prospect of sleeping alone on his first night here does not sit well with him.

"No, of course not. I'll meet you afterwards. But I have a feeling this might take a bit."

"Uh, okay." She kisses him on the cheek, her hand lingering on his arm, and the women set off.

Marta cleans up his plate and asks if there's anything, anything at all, she can do for him. His first impulse is to say, nothing, but then he decides a bath might be just the thing. She assures him it will be done right away. He talks with his men for a bit, and they all seem to be settling in fine. He gives Hot Pie permission to work in the kitchens, but warns him to work with the staff and not just take over completely. Their stay here is only temporary after all. He makes a point to thank Lommy especially for the toast before retiring to his bath. The first real one in quite some time.

The bath is ready by the time he gets back; it's hot with a thick layer of bubbles on the top. There's a fresh scent emanating from the water, but he doesn't know what it is. He's not sure if he likes it, kind of delicate for his tastes, but the idea of complaining seems ridiculous.

Beside the bath, there's a razor and lotion so he can shave his few days worth of stubble. There are even a nice robe and some slippers set out for him, Marta had clearly thought of everything. He gets in and it is pure bliss, he lets out a sigh of contentment at the feel of it. He scrubs himself clean until his skin is pink and fresh. He shaves as well, used to the action without the aid of a mirror, using only touch. And the longer he takes in the scent of the water, the more he actually starts to like it. He lies back in the ample tub, head resting comfortably on the lip, eyes closed in relaxation. The sound of steam and bubbles popping fills his ears, lulling him into a state of half sleep.

Actually, he's not sure if he's asleep, and time has no meaning. It seems things cannot get any better, until a soft delicate hand caresses his stomach, the water is disturbed, and the hand keeps going lower. For a moment he worries it might be one of his nightmares, but there's no pain, no sense of foreboding, and the hand keeps going lower right where he wants it. It's Arya, or his dream version of Arya. And it's been so long, or a few days; but she's never touched him like this. He moans aloud as another hand starts stroking his chest. He opens his eyes, a dopey look on his face, to see Kahlen smiling seductively at him.

"What the fuck?" He exclaims. She hasn't stopped her movements in the tub. He has to physically grab her wrist and jerk it off of him. "What the fuck are you doing?" He asks.

"Is something not to your liking Milord?"

"You can't just… for fucksakes… I'm married."

"And it's a shame the way she neglects you so." She smirks, brown eyes laughing.

"She's my wife!" He says again.

"I won't tell her, Milord." She's completely unashamed, her other hand sliding lower down the same path, and he has to grab that one too, twisting them away from him. The water splashes violently with the effort. For the first time she doesn't look amused.

"No, you won't tell her. And you won't come in here again. Do you understand me?" She tries to pull her arms free and he lets her.

"But it's my job, Milord. I… I need this position, I…" Her lip starts trembling.

"Just get out." He says not looking her in the eyes.

"Milord, please…"

"Get the fuck out!" And she hurries out, her lip miraculously still. He scrubs his face roughly, trying to make sense of what just happened. But he couldn't.

He feels stupid, for not realizing right off. And he feels dirty, so much so that he scrubs himself all over again. And he feels guilty, still hard beneath the water. What would he tell Arya? Should he say anything at all? Would she understand? Would she blame him? He continues to feel guilty even after he finishes himself off, relieving the ache, thinking of delicate hands beneath the water.

He gets out and dries off, foregoing the robe and dressing in a shirt and pants. He gets beneath the covers, trying to clear his mind, trying unsuccessfully to fall asleep.

Arya comes in a while later, all smiles. "I found it. It took me a while."

He wants to ask her questions, greet her properly, but he can't seem to make his mouth work.

She has a few dresses slung over her elbow, and she proceeds to put them away, chatting all the while. "We found some great things for Shireen. She's so sweet. Selyse though…"

He watches her out of the corner of his eye.

"I'll tell you, she sounded like the sort who should not have children. Tsk." And she gets undressed down to only her small clothes. "And Stannis, well, you know him." She looks at him expectantly, and he thinks he nods. She puts on one of his shirts and crawls in beside him. "Do you think she likes it here? Shireen, I mean." At her direct look his voice comes back.

"It's her home." He answers. She nods, but it wasn't the answer she wanted. "Why?"

"I don't know. I guess I just thought, she might like to come with us, to Winterfell. Just thinking." Once she realizes he won't be much of a conversationalist, she changes the topic, a concerned set to her jaw.

"Tense?" She asks.

"What?" He asks startled.

"About tomorrow? The official introductions and the like?" Oh. Oh shit, he had completely forgotten about that.

"Yeah." He answers.

"Well don't be. You'll do great."

"I'm no Lord, Arya."

"No, you're better."

He tries to smile.

"Night." She says. "Don't worry." And she blows out the candle. In the dark, he lets himself look at her. She's lovely, of course, and she starts rubbing her stomach, a rhythmic pattern.

"You alright?" He asks. She's startled.

"Yeah. It just hurts a bit."

"The bleeding?" He's concerned now.

"It's normal. It'll stop soon." She assures him. He puts his hand where hers is and rubs in circles, like he saw her doing.

"That feel okay?"

"Mmm, yes. That feels better. Thank you." She rests her head on his shoulder and it's not long before she falls asleep. Not much longer, he does too.

In the morning, Arya's gone. He starts to wonder if all of last night was a dream. Maybe he'd accidentally drunk something without realizing. Or too much of the ice cream? Yeah, he'd obviously imagined the whole thing.

Arya enters followed by Marta, a tray laden with food; oatcakes with honey, fresh fruits and strong tea.

Marta looks like she wants to chat a while, but Arya nips that in the bud, thankfully.

"Thank you Marta." Arya says.

"Yes thank you." He parrots.

She leaves, and Gendry gets up slowly, yawning and stiff.

"I thought you might prefer a quiet breakfast."

"Yes, and as always, you were right." She smirks at that.

"Well, sit down and eat." He does, slowly.

"Mmm. There's cinnamon in this." He says through a mouthful. She digs through the closet and pulls out a crisp shirt and pants, a pair of boots, and a thick gold chain.

"Well, what do you think?" She asks him, holding up the items.

"Uhhh. Nice?"

"They're Baratheon colors. You want to be imposing, but not intimidating. I think this strikes the right balance." He stops chewing as he realizes the implication.

"Maybe we should put it off." He says, swallowing awkwardly. She sighs dramatically.

"We talked about this last night. You're going to do great. You're their Lord now." And she's so sincere, he loses his appetite. She puts the clothes down on the bed and steps up next to him.

"But why would they listen to me? I'm no different than them."

"Exactly, you know them, you understand them, and you care about them. I saw you with those kids at The Inn. They loved you. And The Brotherhood respects you."

"That's different. I was just Gendry then. Now I'm playing at being a Baratheon. They'll see that, they'll see through me."

"Or… they'll see a man, trying, not perfect, but trying. And you won't be alone, I'll be right beside you." That does make him feel better, a little.

"Can't you do all the talking?" He asks. She comes around to face him, kneeling low so she can look him in the eye where he's seated.

"Just tell them the truth." She says, lips against the curve of his ear. Immediately he feels a tingle.

"What truth?" Her hand goes to his jaw, and looks him right in the eye.

"That you're a good man." She strokes the newly shaved skin. "That you have nothing to be ashamed of." He wants to tell her he doesn't deserve this, any of it. "That you deserve what you want." He can't say the words. "I have faith in you Gendry." And she kisses him sweetly on the lips. "And they will too, just let them see what I see." What was he trying to say? What was he even thinking about?

She has a big smile on her face, kisses him once more on the lips, and tells him to hurry up and get ready. What's he meant to get ready for?

He looks good, he thinks. Not like himself. He decided against the gold chain though, it felt like too much. Arya looks even better though, she's wearing Baratheon black, but it's fitted to perfection, low cut, the bottom reaching the ground. Her hair, clearly done by Merilee, is in two intricate braids around her head, reminiscent of antlers. A smoky grey around her eyes, and red on her lips. To him, she is absolutely stunning, he thinks when he gets the chance he'd like to make her something in the forge, steel not gold, with intricate engravings to adorn her neck. Even a crown wouldn't look out of place, though she'd probably be annoyed at such a sentiment.

As they enter the great hall, the steward, Elwin, announces their presence. 'Lord and Lady Baratheon'.

It had felt weird to say it before, but even stranger to hear it. He wants to look behind him, but resists the urge. The room is filled with people; some dressed in fine clothes, others in simple rags. They're all here to meet the new Lord of Storm's End; to greet him, to pay tribute, to ask favors, or request rulings on minor disputes. He's led to an intricate chair, not a throne really, but it might as well be for its position in the room. Arya goes to sit beside him but Elwin stops her.

"Uh, My Lady. Traditionally it is only The Lord of Storm's End who sits for these gatherings. The presence of a lady might be, taken amiss." Arya looks pissed, but not nearly as angry as he feels.

"The Lady is my wife, and her place is by my side. I don't care who takes it 'amiss', they can fuck off for all I care." He tells him sternly. Elwin looks put out and very uncomfortable, but he bows and retreats off to the side. Arya squeezes his arm and gives him a small smile. After they're both seated, it's time for the introductions to begin.

First, are the lesser lords from the surrounding provinces; they present themselves and pay tribute to Storm's End. Their wealth is tied up with the Baratheons, they offer support to The Stags, but also rely on the protection of The House.

A young lord approaches, his clothes are clean and of good quality, but not overly remarkable. The man is much the same, brown hair, brown eyes, and of medium height. He bows low, lower than the others before him and does not rise. Arya elbows him lightly, and then Gendry realizes he's meant to speak.

"Uh, rise My Lord." He does, if a little slowly.

"Thank you, My Lord Baratheon." He says.

"And you are?" Arya prompts.

"Lord Graham, of House Rosby."

"Welcome." Gendry says.

"Thank you, My Lord. There is a bit of an… issue." He starts.

"Go on."

"We've had a great crop this year, and we're anxious to trade with the Storm Lands. But, we had to take out a loan from the last season. We can fill our order and then some, but if we pay that back and your twenty percent tax, we'll have nothing for ourselves. Perhaps a slight delay or, we could arrange an installment plan…" The man looks very nervous, and pitiful.

"Well, for this time only, I'm sure we could waive the tax…" Arya squeezes his thigh tightly, almost painfully, interrupting him. He shuts his mouth immediately.

"What my Lord Husband means to say, is that we will accept a ten percent tax, the rest to be paid at the next harvest with interest. Are these terms acceptable to you?"

"Yes, yes My Lady. Thank you." The man looks thrilled. He bows repeatedly as he backs away.

"Sorry." He whispers to her.

"No harm done." She whispers back.

The Lord of Evenfall approaches, a pretty man with well-combed reddish hair and bright green eyes, his bow is shallow and quick.

"My Lord, My Lady." He smiles charmingly at Arya, completely ignoring Gendry. He's followed by another man, large and bearded, no less clean, but dressed plainly. "I am Lord Varon Evenfall," Varon, seriously? "It is truly a pleasure to see you well My Lady. It gladdens my heart to see a surviving Stark. My family has always respected and supported the Starks of Winterfell." To this, Arya's eyes narrow.

"Evenfall supports The Starks? That's news to me. I wasn't aware of your _support _against the Lannisters." He looks taken aback for a moment, but he quickly covers it.

"Regrettable and shameful behavior." He agrees, which does seem to placate her somewhat. "Evanfall hopes to enjoy a profitable and amiable business relationship with your household from this point on."

"And is there a reason you have yet to address my Lord Husband?" She counters. At this he finally does look over at Gendry.

"I apologize, My Lord." He spits out the words. "I meant no offense."

"Didn't you?" She asks.

"Of course not. I have nothing but respect for a bastard" Arya clenches her fingers around the armrest at the word, but he motions her to stay still. The word bastard has never bothered him as much as it does her. "who can climb his way from nothing to the lord of a great house." The man simpers, and now Gendry is offended.

"Nothing? You would call a man with a trade, who works with his hands, earning the sweat on his back day in-day out, to create something useful; nothing? I would be very interested to hear what you consider _something_." He all but growls. His anger surprising even him.

Finally realizing the seriousness of the situation, Lord Varon of Evenfall bows low as can be. "I apologize My Lord Baratheon. I deeply regret my words and my manner. Please, forgive me." And he's so pathetic in that instant, that Gendry lets his anger go.

"What is your business here, Lord Varon?" He asks instead.

He gets up, rather gracelessly. "My family has always done fair business, we have always paid on time and delivered fresh, quality products." Gendry remembers suddenly that Ser Davos had taught him a bit about the surrounding provinces and their goods, Evanfall also traded in produce. Gendry nods at the lord, and he continues. "This man…" and he gestures to the bearded man waiting silently.

"And you are Ser?" Gendry asks instead.

"I'm no Ser, Milord. My name is Jon Greene, just a farmer."

"This man owes me money, he's only paid half. I want what is rightfully mine." Lord Varon interrupts.

"And we will pay, but not 'til the harvest. We can't pay what we don't got. The war was hard on all o' us." Jon Greene answers, bearded jaw twitching.

"My Lord, I humbly petition that…"

"I don't think you know what humble means. But you'll have your money. Storm's End will pay the rest." Varon untenses at that. "And Greene, you will from now on deliver your goods directly to us, and we will pay you directly, whatever it is we pay Evanfall now. Lord Varon, it seems you will have to look to other provinces to sell your goods, because after today you will not be welcome in the Storm Lands." The entire hall gasps, Jon Greene looks shocked, and Lord Varon is furious.

"Yes, My Lord." Is all the well-groomed prick can say. Arya's face is unreadable.

There are a few more petitioners, asking for one favor or another. When Marta comes in, panting, and announces that there is some important business that Lady Baratheon must attend to. Arya gets up immediately, but Gendry puts a hand on her arm to stop her.

"Arya," He whispers through clenched teeth. "You can't leave me here." She just smiles and leans into his hear so no one else can hear.

"You're doing great. You can handle this." And she leans in even closer, lowering her voice even more. "When you told off that pompous asshole, I've never been so proud. In fact, it made me rather moist between my thighs. Come find me when you're done." And she kisses him on the cheek and exits with Marta. Gendry is motionless for a moment, completely unresponsive. It takes Elwin clearing his throat rather loudly to get his attention, and he reluctantly takes his place once again.

A few ask about the capital, others request his permission to start a new business, and a couple ask for positions at Storm's end as servants, squires, stable boys and the like. He gives them answers, tries to appease everybody, and answers questions as best he can. But all the while, he's impatient, preoccupied with thoughts of his wife and her confession. So when the last petitioner has thanked him profusely sometime well after midday, he runs out of the room without waiting for Elwin to announce his exit officially.

Arya isn't in his room or Selyse's. She isn't in the kitchens or the dining hall. And though he is hungry, he doesn't stop to eat. In the corridor he runs into Marta, thankfully, and asks her about his wife's whereabouts all out of breath. She's a bit startled at his rush, but tells him she took some lunch to the shore, a secluded spot off the Northern exit, he kisses her gratefully on the cheek and follows her directions. He hears bubbly laughter behind him as he goes.

The spot really is secluded, he has to climb down a rather steep Cliffside; it's not difficult though, the path is clear, but the rocks block the view from the tower. He knows it's the right way though because he finds her lush black dress draped off to the side and has to force himself to slow down so he doesn't fall and break something. The spot is truly beautiful, a small patch of beige sand, crystal waves crashing on the shore; all surrounded by the rocks that make it private, truly the end of a storm.

It's this moment that he's most proud of his home, proud of himself to have something this beautiful belong to him. For a moment he's reminded of Fleabottom, the bay behind The Red Keep. If you were poor, and you wanted to get clean, you'd strip and swim; the only thing you could afford. Many brought their laundry, fruits and vegetables too, and often screaming babies. Come to think of it, maybe it wasn't that clean. But those were some of his best memories; swimming with his mum, and later playing chicken with some of the other apprentices.

He found her then, in just her shift, asleep on the sand. Her hair was loose, her feet were bare, and she'd wiped her face clean. How was it possible she could be just as striking done-up like a queen than as a clean-faced girl? Beside her she had a basket filled with cheeses and cured meats and some sort of fried balls. She'd left most of it and he tucked in with great abandon; he was starving after all. The selfish side of him wanted to wake her, to make her repeat what she'd said to him in the great hall, to ask her about the 'important business', or to get her to take off her shift so he could simply look at her. But instead he leaves her be, lets her rest; he's waited a long time, he can wait longer. Besides, she's not far from the shore; the waves hitting her feet will wake her eventually.

He pulls off his under things and runs for the water. It's cold, very cold, but he doesn't care. So refreshing, he feels like a kid again. He dives in and swims around, at the bottom he feels the smooth pebbles, and picks up a handful. He tries to skid a few across the surface, but of course that only works with still water. Still, it's fun. He swims out and lets the current take him back in. He splashes around, gulps some water and shoots it out of his mouth like a fountain; to which he hears tinkling laughter.

Arya is awake, sitting up, and watching him; a very amused look on her face. He walks closer to the shore, but doesn't get out.

"Having fun?" She asks, a wide smile on her face.

"Aye. You should come in. The water's nice."

"I'm good. I'll just watch you." Her smile turns a bit wicked. "How were the rest of the…?" A large wave makes it hard to hear, but he can guess what she's saying.

"Fine. Oh, what was the important business?" He yells over the breaking of the swell.

"Nothing." He gives her a look. "Really, nothing. I promise, I'd tell you if it was important." She doesn't look upset, so he drops it.

"Come on, come in with me. Please." He pouts in what he thinks is an adorable way to which she looks down, breaking his gaze.

"I can't swim." She admits. He's shocked.

"But, you've been across The Narrow Sea." She rolls her eyes.

"Well, I didn't swim there." She points out.

"Is anybody listening?" He calls out. She looks around confused. "Someone has to be here for the day when I, Gendry the Smith, can do something Lady Arya can't do." And at the way she crosses her arms in front of her chest, he smirks.

"Very funny. All the water's frozen up North, you know."

"Come on, I'll teach you. It'll be fine."

"I'm fine here."

"You're afraid then." Her nostrils do that thing where they flare out; he's fully expecting the steam to come out of her ears soon. "I didn't think you were afraid of anything." Her eyes flash dangerously.

She stands up abruptly, taking off her shift in one swift motion; stomping through the sand with purpose. Huh, he'd finally figured out how to get Arya to do something he wanted for once.

She steps in, not tentatively; she does nothing halfway. When she's in up to her knees, she curses, "You fucking liar, it's freezing." Before she can run back out, he grabs her and pulls her out farther, to which she screams playfully. She almost falls over, but he keeps her up.

"I've got you."

"Just don't let me drown, or I'll come back and haunt you and the new Lady Baratheon." She jokes.

"I won't." He assures her, though what he's promising not to do he's not sure.

The waves crash, spraying them both in salt water, she screams again, but he can tell she's enjoying herself. They splash each other, laughing, and it's a perfect afternoon. She kisses him first, and he pulls her in closer, and it's not long before he feels himself get carried away; it occurs to him that if they don't stop now, it will be very uncomfortable for him very soon.

"Wait, is this alright, I thought…"

"Yes, it's fine. It finished this morning, so we can… whenever you want, in fact…" He doesn't let her finish as he picks her up and carries her back to the beach. She's started the giggling thing again, and he couldn't be more pleased. He kisses everywhere he can reach.

"I'm all salty and sandy." She protests.

"You think I mind?" His voice goes up in the end in disbelief, before going back to his original task.

"Well stop teasing me then, it's been far too long. Very unhealthy." She orders. He quirks a brow at that.

"I'm the Lord of Storm's End, I can do as I like on my own land." He keeps kissing her, slowly reaching her center. The sounds she makes are wild and needy, her fingers clasp roughly onto his scalp. She seemed to like this quite a bit. He'd learned quite a few things about his wife today.

She calls out his name, and he is entirely too pleased with himself. He goes to make some sort of snarky comment, "So…" But she slaps her hand over his mouth, eyes still closed, body slowly coming down until she stops shuddering. She tries to say something, but only a sigh escapes. He finds he's content to just take her in, even with his own ache still unscratched.

And when she flips them over and inflicts the same slow torture on him, kissing him where he never thought she would, he thinks; it's not so bad to be a lord.

A/N: Okay, so that was fun. First, I want to say that I absolutely think what happened with Kahlen was a violation. When I first thought of it, I intended it to be more humorous, but the scene ended up being a bit serious. I think Gendry's a bit traumatized, but lucky for him and us he bounces back quickly.

I also enjoyed the politicking, it was fun to see Gendry find his way and tell people off. And of course, Arya's unwavering support really rings true here.

The beach scene was tricky for me, you know it doesn't come naturally for me, but hopefully you still enjoyed it.

Next Up- Stannis' visit, among other things, Arya's POV. I can tell you, I'm leaving again on Sunday; so if you want the next chapter before then, you HAVE to _**Review!**_


	18. Painful Politics

A/N: Back from vacay, here with a new chapter. Not super intense, but it really sets the stage for the melodrama of the next chapter. Plus, I thought we could all use a chance to check in with some of the other characters. It really took me a while to write this one, but hopefully I'm back on track.

Shout outs for some great reviewers-

IrishJessy: Great, glad you're down with ruling Storm's End, I hope you like this chapter. It's Arya's turn now. She has to practice for Winterfell after all.

Jaxon: Giggles are good, especially since tears and awwws are up ahead. Hopefully smiles and chuckles too.

Chris Pearsoll: Yes, patience.

Quirky Molly: I've been slow, sorry.

Stone474: Thank you. Why was chapter 14 your fave chapter? Just wondering, the more specific the feedback, it tells me what to do and what not to do. So sweet, that really motivates me. I'd love to publish something eventually; I think these are really great practice. I'm learning a lot about my process, character development, and also experimenting with styles. I'll look forward to your comments throughout.

Guests: Thanks a ton for your support. If you leave your name I will address you directly. Thanks again. It says I have 59 followers, yay!

Painful Politics

Arya

Breakfast was sweet eggy toast with ham, Arya didn't care much for all that meat in the morning, so she waved off the pork. Actually, she would have liked something fresher, like fruit or a vegetable omelet; but when she's asked, Hot Pie just threw up his hands in frustration. But she'd learned long ago that just having food on the table was a blessing. As long as there was enough to eat, it was bad form to complain.

"Marta. Could I get more of that bread stuff, a lot more, please, and thank you." It really was good. Gendry was still asleep when she left that morning, he loved his sleep; but she was hungry. She had also remembered to be angry again this morning.

They'd been at Storm's End near a month, and Gendry was more at ease with his new title, and Storm's End in general. He was just getting comfortable here, truly getting to know the place and the people. He wore the clothes well, and stood proud, and he used his 'Lord's Word' more and more often. And she was proud of him, but he could be a right ass sometimes too. After the small bruising she'd incurred on the road, he had forbidden anyone from training with her. She was forbidden from fighting in the training yard. No amount of trickery or sneaking got past the guards. It was ridiculous, and she was annoyed. And of course, he was _The Lord_ here so his word was above hers.

There was a lot she might let go, but this slight, to her pride; was not acceptable. She usually forgot to be mad at him nights, but she always remembered sometime the next day.

She added some honey to the toast, and some slivered almonds.

But of course, in Winterfell it would be different, those were her people; and they would hear a Northerner, a Stark first.

She grinned around her bread, she would have her way in the end, but until then, she'd let him have this; he was terribly prideful, and she didn't want to undermine him in public. He was just learning, getting his bearings.

He was building something here, and then eventually she would have to rip it all away from him; Winterfell was always meant to be home. She knew it would be hard on him when they had to leave, and almost felt guilty for it. But it couldn't be helped.

On her way back to her rooms, she finds Gendry training with practice swords in the yard at late afternoon. The sword master of Storm's End wanted to see Gendry's abilities, and had been pushing him extra hard.

She stopped to watch of course, she never passed up a chance to watch him do anything without his tunic. But of course she was banned from training. Merilee counseled a little seduction would make any man fold to her whims, but not Gendry. Somehow, she was always the first to surrender. No matter how many ways she'd begged, whined, or seduced; he still wouldn't budge. How he was able to stay strong under the pressure of her onslaught she couldn't know, he was usually so pliable. This either meant he was stronger than her or more stubborn, neither concept something she wanted to admit to herself.

Her rational side said they were bound to disagree and fight, but her other rational side said- _**of course she was right though**_. He had no right, and no real good reason to forbid her from this. But he was even more stubborn than her. Quite unbelievable actually. She'd cracked before him, and of course he thought that was hilarious. He seemed to like making her angry, and then they would fall into bed and it would all seem less important. She knew he only meant to protect her, even if it was misguided. And he often went about things the wrong way. But in Winterfell, the Master at Arms would do as she said. And Gendry would have to learn to live with it.

Another round began, and she watched with interest. Gendry against Rik, a bit taller than Gendry, though smaller around the shoulders; he had blonde and gray stubble along his jaw but no hair on his head, gleaming and smooth. And Gendry really was good; not graceful like the Braavos, but strong and efficient, never backing down. He took blow after blow, but nothing hobbled him. There were some nasty ones, she cringed at an elbow strike to his shoulder and a pommel hit to his back. He had a look of complete concentration on his face, and she could see that nothing else existed for him in that moment. Gendry in turn hammered Rik in the gut, Rik dodged the second attack to his head, so Gendry tackled him. Gendry won the bout, strength and force overcoming all.

He's all grins as he helps his opponent up, sweaty and panting.

His gaze finds her with a smile, but she just walks away.

She reaches her quarters at record speed. But no sooner does she enter, than Gendry is right behind her.

"Bathe first. I'm busy." She tells him, though there's no real anger there.

"Arya, I explained to you…"

"Yes, I get it. But I'm still annoyed. I can't do anything about it just now, but I'm still sure I'm right. I can't help it, and I suppose you can't either." She concedes.

"No, you can't. I'll always be worried, I'll always protect you." She rolls her eyes. He rubs his shoulder, clearly in pain. She weakens.

"Sit." She orders. He looks at her strangely with his blue eyes but does so, perching himself on the edge of the bed. She crawls up on the mattress behind him, balanced on her knees, and rubs his shoulders. He's tense, surprised at the contact, but quickly relaxes.

"It's good to know, no matter what, you'll look after me." She's a bit gentler around the bruises.

"That's what I promised." She says grudgingly.

"Come on, don't be like that." She focuses on the other shoulder, getting out a particularly tough knot.

"Like what? Myself?"

"Are you bleeding again?"

"Massage your own bruises." She stops kneading. He covers her hand with his own.

"I'm not supposed to say that, right?"

"Obviously."

He pulls her hand to make her move in front of him, pulling her down so their eyes are level. "What about I love you, can I say that?"

And he's so sincere, she has to bite her lip to keep from answering in kind, stay strong. He notices though and instead of making her feel less for it, he kisses her. She really can't pull away. Pulling her down to his lap, he weaves his fingers in her hair and wraps his arms around her waist. She can't remember why she's mad again.

"Wait what time is it?" He asks pulling away, looking flushed.

"What?" What?

"What time is it?" He pulls back farther, he's serious.

"Midday, I'm sure they can hold off on lunch." She tries to pull him back down.

"No, I have to go." And he picks her up gently and places her beside him on the bed.

"Go, go where?" He gets up and smoothes out his black hair, the hair a bit too long.

"You're not going back for more? You'll be a walking bruise tomorrow." He smiles and tugs his ear.

"Concerned, then?" She flaps her arms around in frustration.

"Of course, you telegraph every move, I could easily beat you. You rely on strength far too much, you're slow..." He should have been offended, but he only smiled wider. One of his major flaws, never properly offended.

"I still won."

"Yes, very impressive." Sarcasm.

"Let's talk later, yeah?" He's already at the door.

"I have stuff to do." She says turning away, feeling her hair as well. Which she's reasonably convinced must look like a dead cat.

"Dinner then." He's grinning at her, damn him again.

"Maybe. You can sleep in your own rooms tonight by the way." His smile fades at that, he sighs, and walks out the door in a hurry. He even leaves his damn play sword.

She goes to check herself in the mirror, yes, a hair disaster, and goes about the process of making herself presentable. She wasn't lying; she did have stuff to do.

Just then, there's a knock at the door.

"My Lady. I'm sorry to bother you," It's the steward, Elwin his name was.

"Maester Elwin." He hadn't approached her or made eye contact since The Petitionning, and his dismissal of her. But now he seemed to be making an effort, so she would try to be courteous.

"Yes, come in." She acknowledges, still brushing her hair.

"I wonder if I might have a word, My Lady." He shuts the door behind him.

"What, specifically is this pertaining to, may I ask?" She asks, looking right at him.

"Well, it is a financial matter. I thought Your Ladyship might be… better suited to this particular matter." His bushy eyebrows are very distracting, like dark caterpillars. Or a long centipede.

"Be plain Elwin, no need for riddles." She puts down the brush.

"Well, at The Petitioning, Lord Baratheon was very generous, and now there are a few, discrepancies."

"That half debt he paid, the discount for Rosby..." She gets up to stand before him.

"Among other things. He was rather kind to many of those present, and, alas, Storm's End is not as profitable as it once was. Much of our income came from trading with Evanfall and then, well…"

"I see." And she does see. "How bad is it?"

"Well, that's not for me to say. Traditionally The Lord would make such final decisions, but I thought, perhaps, you might have a better appreciation of the matter at hand." He says gently.

"Alright." She sighs, knowing this will require math. But, thinking of the alternative, knows it must be done. "I'd like to look at these books. Have them brought to my room."

"Yes, My Lady." And he looks relieved, letting out a gust of air in one whoosh.

"Oh, and Maester Elwin. Don't mention this to anyone just yet." He only bows, his grey hair flopping with the motion. She knew he wouldn't; there was no need for the request.

Elwin spreads out all of the records for the last few years on the dresser, and her bed. It's quite a lot, two large tomes full. But it needs to be done, so she resigns herself to her fate. Luckily, Elwin is quite well versed on the matter, and is able to point out the important figures, dates, and patterns over the course of a few hours.

Yes, Storm's End is only barely sustaining itself. Nothing dire, but it had been neglected for quite some time and was not in the best of shape. She could see that Gendry's generosity had put a lot of strain on their resources, and could badly affect the entire province in the long run. The other spendings they could recover from, but the way they'd handled Evanfall could be messy. There was a reason there was no fruit or vegetables to be had; there were none. And there may not be more in the future. Even with bread and meat; she knew what a lack of produce could do, the afflictions it could cause. At mid afternoon, no solutions were forthcoming, and the numbers were starting to blur into patterns, spirals and curves; and she knew she needed a break.

"Maester this isn't telling us anything. Do you have the notes from the last meeting and the roster for the upcoming gathering?"

"Yes, My Lady. I'll go fetch them."

"Oh, and some tea, please."

She feels overwhelmed, and scolds herself for letting it get to her. Winterfell is much bigger than Storm's End, and the provinces and people that lye within her lands, The North itself, will require much more cunning and patience than this corner of the world. The Storm Lands are more densely populated, but the square footage of the North more than makes up for it. And there was The Watch and The Iron and Bear Islands to contend with as well. This should be nothing; it would have to be practice. She would solve this, she had to; without involving Gendry and ruining his confidence. If he found out he'd put Storm's End in trouble, he would not take it well. And though she's not pleased with him at the moment, she doesn't want to hurt him.

There's a knock at the door, and a serving girl enters. She had never seen the girl before, but she's pretty and young. She has light brown hair and a lovely face, but Arya can't remember having seen her before.

"Pardon me, Milady. I brought your tea." She smiles and sets it on a free table. "Now do you want sugar or…"

"Who are you, I don't believe we've met?" Arya interrupts.

"I'm Kahlen, Milady." She does a little curtsy.

"Uh, sugar, please, Kahlen. Thank you." The tea is refreshing, a little too strong, almost bitter, but she's glad for it; the sugar helps. And for a moment, the rich taste of the caffeine soothes her.

"I brought little cookies too." She mentions.

"Uh, yes, later, thank you." She had missed lunch. Perhaps she could apologize to that prick Lord Varon in Gendry's stead. Ugh.

"What are you working on, My Lady? Can I help?"

"Uh, no, I'm alright." She eyes her over her tea. She dismisses her. "Thank you, Kahlen." She doesn't take the hint.

"I could help in other ways. I served Lady Selyse Baratheon, I could serve you too." She offers, light brown eyes twinkling. She begins sorting the books by alphabetical order, then shuffling the papers into neat stacks. She's very close, standing against her so their sides touch.

"I have a lady's maid, thank you." And now she's starting to have a headache. Leave, she silently urges. Gods, she did not want to eat crow; that annoying little man deserved what he got.

"I have many uses, Lady. You'd be surprised what I can accomplish. I am persistent." She holds out some cookies; peanut she smells. What she wouldn't give for lemon tarts. The girl was annoying her before, but as she took her in, eager, too eager, clever eyes; she saw something there beneath the surface.

"I can see that. Where are you from? How long have you worked here?" Arya questions her.

"Oh, many years My Lady. I served Lady Selyse, and I've been serving Shireen; but she needs me less now that she's busy tutoring His Lordship."

"What?"

"The reading lessons My Lady, it takes up much of her time." She smiles sweetly. Lessons. He hadn't told her. He was too embarassed. But why? Why should he be ashamed of trying to better himself? Didn't he know she was proud of him? Clearly not. She would help him, she would.

"Of course." She covers.

"Should you need anything, My Lady. Please, just ask."

Arya takes a cookie. "I will, thank you. Perhaps soon, but it would have to stay between us. Do you understand?"

"Yes, My Lady. Thank you, My Lady."

"That's all for now." She curtsies once again, and exits.

She is obviously quite concerned with her position here, shrewd then. Or perhaps everyone already knew the situation. Damn.

Elwin returns with the requested documents, and low and she studies them the best she can. The cookies are delicious, especially dipped into the tea.

By the time it's dark enough to light candles, she has resigned herself to her fate.

Dinner was tense, though she and Gendry were seated beside each other, it felt a world apart. Arya was too busy contemplating her strategy, and Gendry was trying too hard to catch her eye. She was no longer angry, but she wasn't sure which topics were safe to discuss.

It was lamb stew this eve, high on spice but low on vegetables; Shireen's favorite, and she was in good enough spirits for the lot of them. Arya would have to shift the tension.

"Shireen, what are you doing tomorrow? Do you have any plans?" Arya brings up casually.

"The same as always." Shireen continues to slurp her soup happily.

"Maybe we could take a little trip, you and I."

"What, where?" She looks startled. The girl is good.

"Just, to the village. Perhaps we could stay the night, wouldn't that be fun?"

And she looks terrified. "Out?"

"Yes, it'll be fantastic." When she'd approached Shireen last night, the girl was only too happy to help. In fact, most of it was her idea; the trip would be a perfect cover. She was actually quite diabolical. "It's not a request." She adds.

"What's this then?" Gendry interrupts.

"We're going for a girl's weekend in the village." She explains, not looking at him.

"What, why?"

"I just thought it would be nice, it might give Shireen a chance to explore, meet new people. Don't you think that would be a nice idea?" She asks Gendry innocently, knowing she's pressing his buttons. He was very protective of Shireen, always worrying about what would become of her.

"Yeah, that is a good idea." He agrees readily. "We'll all go."

"Actually, we're just going to buy dresses and hair things. You'd hate it." She adds quickly.

"I would…" He admits.

"And you have things to do here. A lot of swords need mending." Lommy jumps in, right on cue. This was true; she'd sent that serving girl to round up the swords from the decorative suits of armor lining the hall. They were all terribly old and needing fixing, something on Gendry's lists of chores for weeks. Of course, Gendry looks pleased at the idea of any excuse to work in the forge.

"And what if there's some sort of emergency?" She adds to seal the deal. He may be better at some things she grudgingly admits, but she's smarter. She always will be.

"There must always be a Baratheon in Storm's End. That's what Father always says." Shireen pipes in. Bless the girl.

"I guess, but…" She had anticipated this too; enlisting the help of the one knight she could count on to look after Gendry above all else. It was no accident involving Shireen and Lommy in the plan. They were the three that loved him most. The three willing to lie to his face to protect him.

"Lommy will join us."

"Really?" Gendry looks suspicious.

"Perfect, we'll leave on the morrow. We'll be back the next day. Let's get packed girls." She gets up.

"Alright then." Gendry agrees, and when he tries to kiss her goodbye she turns her cheek. His honest face makes it too difficult to lie to him while looking him in the eye.

And so they set out early in the morning, ham and cheese on rye bread; dull and unsatisfying, but it would have to do.

Merilee looked excited for the adventure, having been let in on everything late last night. Shireen looked nervous, and Arya felt guilty for a moment. But it had to be done, and the girl couldn't stay shut away forever. Lommy, surprisingly, was late.

He did come eventually, but Arya was in no mood, so without bothering to scold him, they headed out.

As they passed the border of Storm's End Lands, Shireen starts hyperventilating. She tries to calm it, to keep it hidden, but they all notice.

"It'll be alright, My Lady. I won't let nothing happen to ya. I promised Gendry. Don't you worry." Lommy encourages, and the girl seems to calm a little.

"Truly, it won't be dangerous." Merilee comforts. Arya thinks changing the subject might be better than drawing more attention to her panic attack.

"Why were you late this morning, Lommy?" She asks instead.

"I… none of your business." Ohhh, interesting.

"It doesn't have anything to do with Brent, now would it?" Merilee smiles wickedly. Oh, truly interesting.

"Brent?" Shireen asks, eyebrow raised and lips pursed, forgetting to be frightened at all this.

"Nothing." He says, turning red and hunching his shoulders.

"Does he feel the same?" Arya inquires.

"Let's drop this." He says.

"Of course, sorry. No more." Arya starts. "But, if it was about Brent…I would be very happy for you." Lommy smiles at that. The mood is much lighter.

When they reach the town line, it's time to part. "Look, Shireen, you and Lommy will stay in town, I'll go with Merilee."

"No, I… I want to come too." Shireen states, no longer trembling, strangely solid.

"This won't be a fun trip, and I'm not looking forward to it to be honest."

"I don't care. It must be done, and if it will help Gendry." Decided then. They continue on, together.

"Are you going to beg?" Lommy asks, one eyebrow raised.

"I hope it doesn't come to that." She answers honestly.

As the day wears on, Shireen begins to relax more and more, enjoying the sun on her face and the speed of her horse. It's truly a delight to see her opening up and stop holding herself in check. And she really seems to be taking to the pants Arya had made for her.

At the ferry to cross it to the Hall, Arya pulls a dress on over her pants. A man like Lord Varon has a taste for the traditional, and she thinks her argument will go a lot farther if she's dressed like a proper lady, though the idea galls her.

The Island of Evanfall Hall really is beautiful, lovely trees; though she can sense no Gods among them. It might be mistaken for a tiny paradise, if it didn't house an asshole of epic proportions.

They were greeted kindly enough and shown into the small but lavish hall, where Lord Varon sat, looking polished as ever, propped up on a chair placed in the center of the room; entire court in attendance. It's not quite a throne, but that's clearly the intent.

"My Lady Baratheon, what a pleasure to see you again. Truly, your beauty brings light to this dreary hall." His green eyes sparkle in amusement, and she has to physically stop herself from rolling her eyes.

"Lord Varon, it truly is a pleasure. You're looking well." How much useless talk would she have to fake her way through? "Actually, I hoped to discuss an important matter with you."

"I'm surprised Lord Baratheon isn't with you." He adjusts his position.

"He has other business. _I_ wished to speak with you, in point of fact. As you mentioned, Evanfall and Storm's End have had a long, prosperous business relationship for generations, it would be a shame to see that go to the wayside. Perhaps we could…"

"You want to reinstate the agreement between our two households?" He asks rhetorically, a pleased smirk on his face.

"Exactly, I'm glad we see things the same way."

"I would love to, but unfortunately, we've already made arrangements with a few other outlying districts and cannot renew the contract." Unbelievable.

"What? How could you have possibly resold all that produce in one month's time? That's not possible." Arya is affronted.

"It is what it is." He shrugs.

"Isn't there some kind of compromise we can come to, some sort of understanding…?"

"Funny, that's exactly what I was thinking." He says, smiling wider.

"And what exactly were you thinking?" She asks.

"I think you know. One time only. And of course, my court offers complete discretion, no one need know." The other attendants in the hall cover their giggles with their hands.

"What exactly are you referring to? Be plain." She clarifies, though she can guess already. Lommy comes to stand beside her.

"I apologize, My Lady. I assumed we were on the same page. Your presence here, your pleading. I was referring to you spending the night, with me, once. And then the business arrangement can continue on as normal." He's lounging comfortably in his chair, playing with his fingers. "It's quite a good deal."

"How dare you ask that of me? What kind of man would ask that?" Her fists are clenched.

"Why shouldn't I? You're a very attractive woman. I think it's a shame for a highborn from a noble house to be stuck with some bastard. It's too bad really. I know it's not your fault; you're only playing the hand you're dealt. You got stuck with him. And now his poor decisions and inexperience might mean you'll all starve. I'm giving you a chance to remedy that. What say you?" He's so pleased with himself, and he doesn't even flinch as Lommy unsheathes his sword.

Arya is silent a long while, processing, considering. Merilee and Shireen are flabbergasted; she can feel their eyes upon her. And the court members are burning holes into her flesh with their stares.

"I say…" She returns each and every gaze in turn, before staring down Lord Varon.

"You can go fuck yourself." She settles on. His grin drops.

"Come, let's go." And she swiftly turns and walks out, her group following close behind.

"If you ever change your mind, My Lady." She hears over her back, to some laughter in the background.

"When the North melts you shiny pig." She calls over her shoulder and continues to storm out.

On the ferry back, she's still quiet. Replaying the scene over and over in her head, wondering what she could have done differently, if there was another way to handle the situation. The comment about the people of Storm's End starving was not an idle threat.

"You did the right thing, My Lady." Merilee says. "What he asked was completely disrespectful, beneath you. Honor would never allow it." True.

"And Gendry would never want that. He would have killed that stuffy little lord for even suggesting it." True enough. "You did right."

"Imagine him saying… I mean it's a sacred act between husband and wife. To ask you for… it's degrading and disgusting. Trying to turn the act of making children into… that. Unforgivable." They all turn to look at Shireen at that, who looks down in embarrassment at an unknown faux pas.

By the time they return to their horses, the sky is beginning to darken.

"Long ride back." Merilee comments.

"We're not heading back, we need to find an Inn or something."

"An Inn?" Shireen asks, excited at the prospect. Arya slows her horse to ride beside the girl; she wants to have a talk.

"Shireen, do you know why I said no to Lord Varon?"

"Yes, because of what Merilee and Lommy said." She answers.

"Well, yes. Pride, one of my major flaws. And true also, I would never do that to Gendry. But that's not why. I said no, because I didn't want to."

"Of course you didn't. No one wants… I mean, as a woman…" She's blushing too furiously to continue.

"You think so? Who told you so?"

"My mother."

"Mine too. She meant to scare me, or discourage me from being too free. I suppose." She looks very interested, so she continues.

"But it's not awful, I quite like it in fact."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. He knows it too, damn him." She says the last bit under her breath. "You'll see one day, when you marry. It's not bad."

"I'll never marry." She says resolutely, reminding Arya of herself when she was young.

"That's what I said too." She jokes.

"No, I mean I really won't. Before, my father would have arranged a match for me, but now that Storm's End has gone to Gendry, no one will want me." She's so sure, and so sad.

"That's not true, Shireen."

"It is. With this face…" She covers her greyscale with her palm and looks away.

"You never know what will happen, who you'll meet. The world is changing. And if you don't wish to marry, you don't have to. You'll always be welcome at Winterfell with us." She smiles radiantly at that, and Arya wishes she'd said something of the kind to her sooner.

They pass through the first village they come across, a small farming village called Haystack, where there are no Inns, taverns, or even brothels to be found. Haystack though, why does that sound so familiar? And then it comes to her, the farmer, Jon Greene. Perhaps they could beg a night off him; she'd resort to guilt if it came to that.

She asked around and found his farm not far off, rather large, stretching acres and acres. The moon glinting off the fields were quite beautiful.

When they knock upon the door, Arya is dressed once more as a lady, the farmer shows true surprise through his thick beard. His wife answers as well, and the door is set wide open letting the light spill out. It looks warm and inviting in there.

"My Lady." The man greets. His wife gasps loudly and backs up a step. Arya puts on her friendliest smile.

"Good evening, Mr. Greene, Mrs. Greene."

"My Lady." His wife says, light blonde hair fastened back.

"What can I do for you?" Jon Greene asks. To the point, so much simpler.

"Sorry to impose, and so late; but we're in need of a place to stay this night."

"Uh, of course, come in, come in." The woman shifts at that and becomes a welcoming hostess.

Dinner is very pleasant, the two Greene girls fascinated with Arya but more especially Shireen. But it was in a friendly way, and they chatted and giggled between the three of them. It was heartening to see. And the dinner was very nice too if modest, roasted onion and goat cheese; the onion Greene's own crop. Perfect, she thought, they'd lived off onions in Storm's End before, and would again if they had to.

They have no extra rooms, but Shireen is welcome to stay with the children. They also offer Arya their bed, but she declines of course and beds with the children instead. It reminds her a bit of the coldest nights in Winterfell, cuddling up with her siblings. Lommy and Merilee will sleep in the barn.

Greene's crop is ready for harvest, but they only have so many hands. Lommy volunteers, and Arya does too. Merilee and Shireen offer after the fact, they're put to work sorting, cleaning, and preparing. They try to have Arya help out in the kitchen, but she sneaks out to the fields, plucking in the hot sun with the rest of them. If Lommy is surprised to find her working beside him, he doesn't show it.

It had looked quite easy at the first, but you couldn't let your mind wander completely. The roots were delicate and took some finesse; and it was murder on the back. Her pants were filthy, but she had plucked bucketsful of the sweet root vegetable; and it felt good to dig her fingers in the Earth and to sweat. Around midday Shireen brings around water to all the workers, she gets many thank you's and smiles; and it's as if the girl's truly forgotten about her face. No one else seems to care either.

It becomes apparent that a group has formed, and is watching her work. After blowing a particularly annoying strand out of her face, she addresses them.

"Hello." She smiles, but receives no response from them; too shy to reply.

"Greene." She calls out. They'd at least grown familiar and comfortable after working alongside each other for hours on end. "What's all this?" He shrugs.

"Not used to seein' a fine lady work the fields, I'd expect." He says, chuckling.

"Nobles get their hands dirty too sometimes." She jokes loudly so they can hear.

She gets a few smiles at that.

"I've even been known to gut rabbits if it's called for." She continues, garnering a few laughs as well.

"I don't doubt it." Greene says.

"And she's the best I e'er seen on a horse." Lommy adds, to which she smiles brightly at him.

"Did you really tell Lord Varon to…?" One asks, he's short and barrel chested, with a kind face.

"She told him to go fuck himself." Lommy says.

There's some hearty laughter at that.

"I hate that asshole. Always looking down on us. Ne'er gives us a fair shake." He approves.

"This is Tom, he has a potato field up the road." Tom does a little bow thing, but it's funny more than anything. A few others introduce themselves as well, and they all seem to dislike Lord Varon as well.

"Maybe you could do a deal with them, like you done with us." Green suggests. She hears agreements from the others.

"Well, we would love to. We don't have much just now, but perhaps by the next harvest…" She starts.

"Will this do?" Shireen holds out jewelry, the pieces they'd picked out from her mother's room.

"Shireen, what did you…?"

"It's my home too you know, Storm's End. My people. I have to help, if I can. They're just things." And she's so sincere that Arya can't help but agree.

"Those'll do." Tom says, to other nods that follow.

It's settled then, somehow. They would keep Storm's End fed. Shireen had broken out of her shell; her and Lommy were better on better terms; and she had gotten to tell off that shit Lord Varon. All in all a grand trip; but she was eager to return home, to her life, to her husband.

A/N: Well, that ended up being a long one. I'm kind of surprised. I quite liked the idea of Arya problem-solving, bonding with Shireen and Lommy, and remembering what she's capable of. Things are not perfect with Gendry; she truly does hate being told what to do. But she can't seem to help herself either. A slippery slope. Next Chapter- Stannis comes back and super drama. Review please.


	19. The Return of Stannis

A/N: There are some book spoilers ahead, so if you're not all caught up to the most recent book, then maybe skip the bonus chapter at the end. Though I don't really think it will ruin anything for you, and you'll miss out on a fun little extra.

Also, as always, thanks for the reviews. And 60 followers, yay!

Stannis' Return

Arya

They end up staying that night, too tired to ride back. The next morning they get a very late start, having overslept considerably. They're all sore, but satisfied, with a few basketfuls of different fruits and vegetables to bring back until the harvest is truly over.

Arya is in good spirits, quite proud of herself, and her little team.

"What exactly will we tell Gendry when we return?" Shireen asks. She was considering that herself. The bare bones plan she'd had, had been completely upended. They had stayed an extra night, there were no new dresses, and they all looked as if they'd been through the wringer.

"I'm not sure yet." She answers honestly, biting her lip.

"You've gone to a lot of trouble to keep his manly honor in tact."

"It's not just about Gendry. I'll need to do things like this for Winterfell all the time. I won't just live there, I'll have to hold it, govern it. Storm's End is just a practice-run for me." She insists, though it sounds hollow, even to her.

Her mind goes back to plausible lies she could tell to spare his feelings. No matter what else, she would spare him pain if need be.

They arrive back at the castle at the setting of the sun- horses, guards, soldiers, and knights swarming around. It's a frenzy, and it can mean only one thing. Stannis had finally arrived. And she'd missed it. Of course.

Maester Elwin was waiting for them, and looked at her expectantly. She sent Shireen in ahead, with the intent to stall as long as possible. She sends Merilee ahead to her own room to start a bath.

To Lommy she gave the vegetables, to be added to the evening's supper.

She approached Elwin.

"My Lady, we are so glad you have returned. Is everything, _well_ with Evenfall?" He's twiddling his fingers nervously.

"Aye, Maester, not to worry. Everything is fixed." His shoulders untense with a big sigh. "How long has Lord Stannis been here?"

"He arrived last night, but Lord Gendry has managed to convince his uncle to hold off on anything formal until your return." An entire day, that was no good.

"Good, the Lady Shireen will stall as I go make myself more presentable."

"Uh, My Lady. There is another matter. A letter arrived not long ago; I thought you might be particularly interested as you've been so attentive to all correspondence. It's from The Wall." A letter, from The Wall? It's unopened, and she doesn't recognize the script.

"Thank you, Maester." He bows and leaves.

In a trance she makes it to her room. The Wall, Jon?

There, the maid Kahlen is waiting, a lukewarm bath ready; she soaks, submerging her head beneath the bubbles, perhaps a bit longer than necessary. A few ruby red drops confirm what she'd suspected earlier. Apart from the aches and pains of working and riding, those were cramps she'd been battling. She opens up the letter.

_To The Great Houses of Westeros,_

How many of these letters were there? All the houses?

_We seek your aid. The dead walk beyond The Wall and seek to destroy all life. Once The Wall is breached, they will wreak havoc upon the land indiscriminately; rich and poor alike it will make no difference._

By The Gods.

_They cannot be killed with regular steel, even beheading does not stop them. Fire is the only way, but we are vastly outnumbered. Many of our brothers have already fallen. _

Jon…

_We've taken on Wildlings to help defend the barrier. We plead for men, supplies, whatever you can spare. Do not ignore this warning; once we fall the realm is next._

_In the name of The Lord Commander of The Night's Watch_

The letter drops from her fingers into the water, and she's quick to pick it up, clutching the soggy paper tight between her fingers. Too many thoughts, she can't focus. She puts the paper aside.

She rinses her hair, scrubbing hard.

The dead walk the Earth. She'd never truly believed Old Nan's stories, but she'd never believed in dragons either. And she'd seen things now, her mother's corpse, walking around with her skin hanging off her bones. It was possible, more than possible.

She cleans her skin too, until it almost hurts and her fingertips are pruned.

To beg for aid, to take on Wildlings; things were truly dire.

She gets out and the girl perfumes her, helping her into a fine grey dress.

And she'd sent her letter to Jon more than a month ago; surely he would have received it before this was sent. If Jon had seen it, if he were alive, he would have responded, he would have included something for her eyes. Was he one of the fallen?

The girl tightens the back, buttoning her way up.

No clue, no signal to let her know he wasn't things were too crazy, or perhaps her favorite brother, her last blood tie was truly gone. Jon was a great fighter, and no doubt learned much on The Wall, but an enemy who could not be killed with steel? And there was not an abundance of fire to be found amongst the ice. This letter was one of many which were sent to all the Great Houses; things must be truly desperate.

The maid gets started toweling off her hair, her simple dress getting little drops of water on it.

"Just a braid then? Or the fishtail, My Lady, or…"

She's startled from her thoughts; she hadn't processed the girl's presence. But she never could have managed to dress herself with all the thoughts swirling around in her head. So she should be grateful for the assistance, but she wasn't. Where was Merilee? This maid is always so intent. Too intent.

"Uh, yes, thank you. Whatever you think."

She sits at the vanity, and the girl begins brushing her hair in earnest; pulling tightly on various strands. She can feel the brush strokes, a soothing rhythm. She can feel fingers stroking her scalp and along down her neck. The hands move lower, massaging her shoulders. Comforting, gentle. She goes back to her thoughts.

Now Stannis was here with his men, her men, she would need them; not just to rebuild, but also to fight. Did he already know about the siege up North, would he care? Her heart was telling her that her brother might be dead, but she had to make sure for herself. And, oh yeah, save The Realm, starting with The North.

"My Lady, I wanted to speak with you about something." The brushing becomes forceful.

"Umm, can it wait, Kahlen? I have a lot on my mind." And the girl pulls a little too hard on a braid.

"I really must insist, My Lady." She meets Kahlen's petulant gaze in the mirror. Suddenly, Arya is ill at ease.

"We'll discuss it later. I can finish here." Arya pries the girl's fingers off her head, suddenly not comfortable with the position of power over her.

"When?" No, the girl's gaze is furious. How dare she add one more thing, her plate was already overflowing. And with that indignant look about her no less.

"I don't know. You're distracting me. Now please leave." Perhaps she's overreacting, but the girl is truly trying her patience. She looks about to protest further, and Arya tightens her hold on the brush. But just as quickly, the maid's face morphs into a smile.

"Of course, My Lady. Later then, of course." She curtsies, and leaves.

Strange, unsettling, and not important enough to ponder. She stands up and inspects the half-done braid in the mirror. Arya deftly finishes the braid as best she can, satisfied with the result despite it all. A tiny bit of shadow rubbed around her lashes, a smudge of pink on her cheeks and lips.

She enters the dining room with her head held high, determined to play her part, determined to have those men Stannis had promised. She would give Stannis no excuse to deny his promise, no fault to find with Gendry or her. Lack of an heir not withstanding. She looked beautiful and poised, and she knew it.

They are already seated, but they all rise upon her entrance. Gendry smiles warmly at her, clearly relieved to see her, and she smiles back in encouragement. _Hi_, she mouths to him, and he mouths _hi_ back. Realizing how much she'd missed him the last few days, weeks really. He's also dressed well; hair cut and face shaven, clothes ironed. Ser Davos is here as well, and thankfully The Red Woman is absent, it's a good omen as far as she can tell. Stannis is dressed as always, no frills. She was glad for a dress instead of her usual trousers, she had learned that a gown could be armor in its own way, in certain circumstances. She sees this reflected in the surprised look on Stannis' face. But he recovers quickly.

"So, you've finally decided to grace us with your presence." He quips as they all take their seats. She and Gendry are displaced down a space to make room for the true lord of Storm's End, but of course it makes no difference to them.

"I could say the same of you. We've been waiting a month already, My Lord." Gendry seeks out her hand beneath the table and she takes it, once again they're on the same side, the same team.

"Well, I have been putting King's Landing in order, at Her Majesty's request. But I'm here now, I trust that's given you both enough time to have things in order here." She catches his true intent- he expects a perfect heir to reflect well on himself.

"We've been busy too, My Lord. The Storm Lands have their fair share of responsibilities as well." Gendry answers, trying very hard to annunciate every syllable. His palm is a bit sweaty, but other than that he doesn't flinch or blink.

"Oh yes? What sort of responsibilities?" The first course is a fresh salad of cucumber, tomato, onion, and beet with lemon vinaigrette. Bless Hot Pie; he definitely came through in a pinch. Stannis spears a beat and eats it.

"There were structures that needed mending, small folk with disputes, staff to…" Gendry starts, clearly having rehearsed the answer.

"Yes, yes, good good. And what of the holdings, the finances?" Stannis talks while eating, and the beet he's chewing gives the impression of blood on his lips. Gendry clearly has no answer for this and pales. He has barely even touched his salad, not that he's a great lover of vegetables.

"Gendry's been doing splendidly, Father. He's opened up new markets. And we're saving money." Shireen declares proudly, smiling brightly at her father. If anything, Stannis seems surprised that Shireen would speak out at dinner, but not displeased. "He saw an opportunity for Storm's End, and he took it." She finishes.

Stannis snaps his fingers, and the newly inked ledger is brought before him.

She feels Gendry press his thigh against hers in nervousness, and she rubs that spot by his thumb that relaxes him. His shoulders lower a centimeter.

Stannis reads, and looks over at Gendry skeptically, but nods in acceptance.

"Very good." He admits. She thinks it must be painful for him; good. Arya smiles over at Gendry, as high praise as the stern Baratheon will ever bestow. He passes the ledger to Ser Davos to peruse as well. She's a little disappointed that Shireen won't receive any of the credit, but she'll make sure the girl gets her due somehow.

"Any other hoops to jump through, real or imagined?" She questions over a sip of sweet wine. But only a bit, she's learned her lesson.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Admit it, Gendry's done everything you've asked of him and more. You can't possibly have any complaints, any reason to retain your men."

"He's proved, adequate, to be sure. That's down to you I suppose. What's more he's seemed to mellow you out as well. Only..."

"Get to the point, Stannis." She sets the goblet down.

"Very well. Have you conceived yet?" He addresses the question to Arya, and she stiffens. This time it's Gendry who grips her fingers in comfort.

"The contract is not reliant upon…" She starts.

"I know, I'm perfectly aware of the agreement. I'm only asking as a loving uncle would."

"We haven't been married long." Gendry answers for her. "There's still time."

"Well what have you been doing all this time? Nearly two months. You do know what to do, don't you Gendry?" Oh yes, a loving uncle alright. "And you, I thought you were supposed to be a fertile little thing. Pity." Stannis remarks over his lamb and rosemary potatoes.

"Enough! That's my wife, you're talking about. You won't speak to her that way. Or at all in my presence." Gendry's voice is raised, deadly serious. It's not a question, but a command.

"Apologies." He acquiesces. And Gendry does start eating in earnest, having asserted himself enough to feel comfortable at last. Arya allows herself a true smile; he's found his place. No, Stannis will have nothing to complain about now. A true lord, the best kind. She lets herself enjoy the potatoes.

The dinner goes on in peace, with more questions about the changes made in his absence and some inquiries as to the state of the capital, Danaerys, and Tyrion. Arya really lets herself breathe, everything truly going swimmingly.

The serving girl comes in to serve dessert, a cheesy torte with raspberry sauce. It's the girl, the pretty one, Kahlen. She looks a bit nervous, fingering the hem of her light blue dress. She was acting so strangely earlier. But as she placed the creamy dish in front of Stannis, she freezes. Looking in Arya's direction, moistening her bow shaped lips. But it's not Arya she's staring at, but Gendry.

"Yes, what is it girl?" Stannis asks impatiently, not enjoying the sensation of her hovering.

"Pardon, My Lord, I…" And then she does the strangest thing, she drops to her knees and prostrates herself. "Forgive me, My Lord. I beg you for your mercy." What is she on about? Gendry has let go of her hand and is now clenching the tablecloth. His eyes intent on the scene. What does he know of it?

"What is this?" Stannis asks confused. "Get up, girl." She gets up from the floor, but stays on her knees. She looks at Stannis with pitiful wet brown eyes, near tears but not quite.

"Forgive me, My Lord. I'm so embarrassed. And to do it this way… I didn't know what else to do, I…" Arya notices Gendry is half out of his seat.

"Yes, yes. Be plain. I haven't the time, for…"

"I'm pregnant, My Lord." Was this some kind of joke? It certainly seemed like The Gods were having a laugh. But why is she doing this now. It certainly wasn't too much of an emergency, she wasn't even showing yet.

"And what's that to do with us?" Stannis, compassionate as always. But she has to agree. The girl had terrible timing.

"It's His Lordship's." She says, looking right at Gendry. And Arya feels all the breath leave her lungs.

"No!" Gendry shouts beside her, chest heaving. He's at his full height, incensed.

"Silence, Boy!" Stannis scolds. Not Gendry, boy. And Gendry freezes. "Go on, girl." She has a few tears leaking down her cheeks now, but she goes on. This is what she'd been trying to say earlier. Arya rather wishes she'd let her speak in private.

"It started when he first arrived, just a time here and there. Of course I didn't say no. Then when things became more distant between them, ugly fights and the like; he'd call me to his bed more and more." The fight, the distance. No wonder it had been so easy for him; no hardship, no bother at all.

"That's not true." Gendry denies. Training, classes with Shireen, and extra practice on his own. Extra practice?

"Do you have any proof?" Ser Davos questions the girl.

"Only that I love him. And this child will need his father. When it comes, you'll see." She wipes at her nose. "I never thought he loved me, not truly; but perhaps the babe…" She clutches her belly, and the tears come faster now, sniffling too. Arya can feel eyes on her, but can't seem to look away from the girl, Kahlen. Was she prettier than Arya? Did he prefer her?

Stannis throws down his napkin on the table, furious. Though he lacked social niceties, Stannis was always adamant about the honorable thing. He constantly spoke of his brothers' indiscretions with disgust.

"Well, I see the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." Stannis remarks. "But you could at least have had the sense to wait for a legitimate heir first. Damn you, boy." Stannis curses.

He pulls on the tablecloth in anger, displacing a few forks, and sending the ledger to the floor. He waves the girl away and shoves away his dessert.

"I'm not pleased." He says with finality. They'd officially failed the test; that much was clear.

And just like that, she feels her whole world slipping away. It was all gone now. She swallows and tastes bile.

She's aware of a churning in her stomach, and she has a vision of retching all over the tablecloth, but holds herself together. No, she won't let all of it slip away. Not the part she can still hold on to.

"We were…" There are words coming from her mouth, and she's not sure from where. Gendry snaps his gaze away from his disapproving uncle to stare at her. "We took your request for heirs to heart, Uncle. A backup. Just in case." She swallows, and the bitter acid taste is gone. "There's a good chance I'm barren, so, we thought it best to make other arrangements." Whose words are coming out of her mouth? Gendry croaks in astonishment.

"But a bastard child…" Stannis seems unconvinced, eyes cockeyed.

"Arya…" Gendry tries to get her attention once again, his voice breaking on her name; but if he interrupts her she'll never get through it.

"We'll legitimize him or her. You'll have a Baratheon heir. I swear it. On my honor." Her spine is rigid, conveying the confidence she in no way feels.

"Are you sure about this?" Stannis questions. He squints at her in pity. It only makes her stomach twist harder.

"No." Gendry says at the same time as she speaks over him.

"That depends, will you fulfill your part of the bargain?" She challenges. He looks between her, Gendry, and the girl. Then eyes Ser Davos beside him who nods.

"Yes, I'll keep my end." Is she meant to be relieved? What she'd just agreed to, what she'd just promised. She would have to live with it forever, one way or another.

"Do you swear it?" She has to make sure.

"I swear it, on my name." It was done then.

"Good, that's settled." She pushes out her chair gracefully and stands. "Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll retire." Gendry forcefully grabs her arm to stop her from leaving, but still she can't look at him. It's taking everything in her to keep herself together. She concentrates on the crease between the walls, the part where the pieces fit together; not his warm fingers curled around the flesh near her elbow.

"Arya, wait, it's not what you think." He tries to explain, loud enough so only she can hear.

"We leave on the morrow." She raises her chin high, keeping her voice from shaking.

"So soon? What's the rush? Winterfell will still be there in a few more weeks." Shireen pleads.

"We've been sitting still for a month. Hardly a rush." She turns her attention back to Stannis. "And we're not going to Winterfell. We're headed to The Wall." She answers.

"The Wall…" Stannis freezes, his eyes unblinking.

"Yes, that's right. They're _my_ men now, and I can do what I want with them. I say we continue on to The Wall. Would you go back on your deal?" She challenges, single eyebrow raised.

"The Wall, it is. We leave tomorrow. As you say." He agrees. She hears nothing, only sees his lips moving and his head nodding. It's enough for her. Arya rips her hand free from Gendry, and quickly but smoothly exits the room. She's exceedingly proud of herself for not letting herself cry in front of them.

Bonus Chapter

Jon

When he wakes, everything is blurry and the room is spinning. He tries to sit upright, but can't quite manage. It's his own quarters, this he recognizes.

"No, no, no. Don't do that." It's Sam, he can tell that much. "Just lay back there." He instructs, making him more comfortable on the bed.

"Sam, what happened?" His smiling bearded face comes into view.

"You're alive is what. That woman did it, for sure. Well, actually, I'm not sure what she did. But you're alive." He feels a deep pain in his gut; he tentatively slides his fingers beneath his shirt to feel puncture wounds. Oh yes, the repeated stabbing by his own men. Fuck. He should be dead.

"What woman?"

"She serves the Red God, red and voluptuous. Ring any bells?"

Oh yes. There was no forgetting her. The power. She'd done something to him. It seemed he had her to thank for his life, but he still didn't trust her. He liked looking at her sure enough, though the red hair still physically pained him.

"How did I get here?"

"You got up and walked, then fell unconscious again." Oh yes, he remembered that too.

"What of the men?"

"We rounded them up. The ones loyal to you are watching them close. They ripped a few of them apart. And those on the fence, they saw you rise from the dead and not as a White Walker; they're too afraid to try anything against you." Everything was a mess with them. He would have to execute at least a few, if not all involved. But it would have to be done. If he couldn't trust his own men, what good were they?

"And what of her?"

"Well, I dunno where she is. Probably staring into the fires again, talking to her god." Sam was still quite dubious about her religion, and he had to agree.

"I should do something, about the men. Help me up." But he pushes him back down instead.

"No, you aren't, you're going to rest a bit more first. Besides, I have more news." He says excitedly.

"More news?" He rubs his brows in frustration. What now?

"You've had a letter. And I read it. Sorry. I thought it might be important and…" He's babbling.

"I named you my Second, Sam. Of course you're meant to read important letters."

"No, but. It wasn't to The Lord Commander, it was addressed to plain Jon Snow." He pulls himself up higher at that.

"From who?"

Sam smiles then.

"Your Sister." It can't be.

"Are you sure?" He doesn't want to get his hopes up.

"Pretty sure, it sounds like her and all. I mean the way you described her. And the script is girly. Also, she signed it Arya."

"And she's alright? She's…"

"Oh, yeah. She's…" Sam holds out the letter. "Well, you should read it." He grabs at it, but the neat sentences blur together a bit.

"Sam, could you…" He takes the letter back gingerly.

Sam reads slow, giving him the chance to take it in. He appreciates that.

"Dear Jon. I haven't heard from you in so long, I fear the worst."

"Wait, how long ago was this?"

"It got here a couple of weeks ago." Damn ravens.

"Fuck."

"I've heard all sorts of stories about the creatures on The Wall. All I ask is a letter, a sentence, a word. Just let me know you're alive." He clenches his fist. Is he, is he truly?

"We're the last, Jon." By the Gods, was that true? Father, Robb, Bran and Rickon. Catelyn Stark was dead too. He wondered about his little sister often, never sure if she was alive. She was though, clearly, and he was. The last, like she said.

"I'm at Storm's End now, but soon I hope to be on my way home. I swear to you I'll rebuild Winterfell to its original glory and make Father proud." Hah, he could still imagine her at 12 years old, the last time he'd seen her, hair a mess, wanting to do everything the boys could do but turned away and discouraged. And now she would be taking over Winterfell in Father's stead. Incredible. But he had faith in her. So determined, he doubted there was anything she couldn't accomplish.

"I've found his bones. And my mother's too. I know you two didn't get along, but if you'd seen what I'd seen; you'd want her put to rest too." What had she seen? He tried to imagine. After his own horrors. Would she believe the things he'd been witness to? Six years since he'd seen her last, six long years.

"I thought I heard Bran; he called to me. Perhaps I'm going mad, but it pleases me to think of him in the bosom of The Old Gods." So she'd heard him too. It was real, he wasn't going mad.

"Also, I'm married."

"What?!" He startles Sam so badly, he stops reading. "What?" He asks again.

"She's married." Sam says simply.

"To who? What? When?"

"Do you want me to keep reading?" Sam teases.

"Yes, yes. Sorry."

"I know, I swore I never would. Danaerys forced it upon me, it was the only way to strengthen my position in The North."

"I knew it! I knew she would never marry of her own free will. That Dragon woman must have forced her. How dare she? Arya never wanted to marry. And to who?" He just keeps reading.

"But it's not so bad. His name is Gendry. He's very kind and he treats me well, so don't worry. He's a smith, and a Baratheon. I want you to meet him." A Baratheon? He'd never heard of a Gendry Baratheon, and he'd had to study the family histories like all his legitimate siblings. And a smith? Who ever heard of a lord with a trade? The Red Woman knew, she must have, she served Stannis after all, or claimed to, and yet she hadn't said anything.

"I'm sure when you do, you'll love him like I do." Sam looks up from the paper. "See that. She loves him. It's alright."

"Unless someone's making her write that." Although, in truth he's having trouble imagining anyone making Arya do anything. Sam goes on.

"One day I hope you will come visit us, you will be very welcome, and finally all will be set to rights. I miss you, brother. Send me word that you're alive and well, I beg you. Love, Arya."

"Fetch me paper and ink, Sam. Please." But Sam doesn't move. "Sam."

"I can fetch you the paper and ink. But we've no more ravens. You ordered me to send out a call for help to all of Westeros. We sent out every last one. There's no way to send it, Jon, I'm sorry." Jon punches the pillow.

"But she's alive."

"She is. And happy." Well, that remained to be seen.

Married, to some Baratheon. He hadn't even been there. Though, he supposed that had never been a possibility. He didn't get to meet him, to deem him good enough for his fiery little sister. He hadn't even gotten to threaten him, like he should have done. He still pictured her as the little girl who used to steal sips of his ale, who would make faces at the Septa, or run down the hall in his pants and tunics. But she wasn't like that at all anymore was she? After all this time, she was married and who knew what else. He and Arya wouldn't even know each other. She might not even recognize him; scruffy and bearded, gaunt and pale.

But if she was going home to Winterfell, he would get there too. But first he had to fulfill his vow. Protect The Wall, Protect The Realm, Protect the people of it. He had a home and precious family left. And he would see both again, he vowed.

"Alright Sam, help me up now." And this time, there was no argument.

A/N: Okay, so I blame the pain on my love for telenovelas. You might be angry, heck I'm even surprised at Arya's reaction. Did you see something like this coming with Kahlen? Is she telling the truth? What will happen? Obviously, we're headed to The Wall soon. Jon just set the stage. I don't know if I'll do any other perspectives besides Gendry and Arya again, but I kind of liked the idea of Jon's reaction and the unreliability and inconvenience of the mail in Westeros. Like I said, I'm experimenting and take suggestions.

Review Please!


	20. Fallout

A/N: This is set in George RR Martin's world, which is fucked up. So really, a fluffy story was never gonna happen. I will guarantee a happy ending for them, but the road to get there will be painful.

Also, 64 followers, so awesome!

Loving Reader: I wouldn't put anything past Kahlen. There's something off with her.

Stone: Thanks for the feedback. Any other characters in particular you'd like to see with their own perspective? And/or missing scenes?

Jessy: Oh, I love that you had to go back and look for clues. That makes me happy.

Shelley: We know that, but does Arya?

StarKiss: You're right; a Jon/Gendry confrontation is in the works.

yourloved: She is skanky.

Fallout

Gendry

The room is silent, and Gendry hesitates only a moment before following Arya out. She's walking purposefully down the hall, fists clenched, her grey dress swishing loudly.

"Arya." He calls out. She slows down, but keeps walking. He easily catches up with her. "Arya." He grabs her arm to get her to face him. Her eyes are moist, and the sensation unmans him.

"Not here." She grabs his arm and pulls him along, he follows readily of course, breathing a bit heavy with the adrenaline of it.

"Please just listen, let's talk about this…"

She shakes her head, looking up and down the hall for eavesdroppers.

"Arya please, you have to believe me. I didn't do this. I would never..." He pleads. She stops looking around and focuses on him.

"I do believe you, Gendry."

"What?" His whole chest collapses in relief. He's not sure he heard her correctly.

"Or, I don't believe _her_." She lightly slaps him on the chest. "You wouldn't have a bastard, you're so sensitive about those things. I'd also like to think you wouldn't humiliate me this way in public." She grinds her jaw.

He laughs then, the intense relief doing nothing to slow his pulse.

"I thought. Oh God, I thought…"

"Sorry. I just had to get out of there before I lost my composure. I could have strangled her. That or vomited on the dessert."

"Thank the Gods." He kisses her palm and pulls it to his chest.

"I know she's lying. But the best lies usually have some truth mixed in. I'm still figuring out which is which." She arches her eyebrows at him. "Swear to me you never touched her, and I'll believe you."

He swallows, his first reaction. She sees it and her eyes narrow.

"No. I…"

"You hesitated." He swallows again.

"No, I didn't I…" She frees her hand.

"You did it again. You're hiding something."

"No. I, yes. But it's not what you're thinking." He combs his fingers through his black hair.

"You don't want to know what I'm thinking." The line of her jaw is tense.

"Just, let me explain."

"Please, by all means."

"She tried to… there was a thing… but nothing happened. Truly. I thought I could handle it myself. Obviously, I was wrong. But I didn't think she would dare…" He trails off, but she's studying him.

"What thing?"

"It's…"

"Tell me 'the thing', now, Gendry. You won't get another chance." She crosses her arms in a show of strength. But her eyes are watering.

"Well, it's. When we first got here. I came back to the room. I saw, what I thought was you leaning over. I thought I was grabbing your ass, but…" The look she gives him is blank.

"And then?" Emotionless.

"Nothing. I mean she rubbed all up against me like, and I sent her away." He scratches the back of his neck. "I really thought it was you." She blinks slowly.

"Nothing else?" She looks doubtful.

"Well, she…"

"For fucksakes, Gendry. Just say it, the more you stall the worse it seems." He might as well, it couldn't possibly make the situation worse.

"Well, I was takin' a bath one night, I only closed my eyes for a second. And… then there was a hand on my cock." Her jaw drops open. "Seriously, I thought it was a dream, or… She was… But I stopped her. I did. I swear it." She starts laughing slowly.

"Arya." The laugh gets louder and stronger.

"You're scaring the hell outta me." She has to clutch her stomach she's laughing so hard, and tears fall from her eyes. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's true, I…"

"Oh, it's funnier if it's true." Her laughter is easing.

"You're not mad?" His stomach settles a bit.

"A bit, maybe." She calms down further. "You should have told me so I could have handled this sooner; rather than having to think on my feet. What happened to trusting each other?" All traces of laughter gone.

"I tried to take care of it. I did. I thought you wouldn't even have to know about it. But then she started acting crazier, and, she said there would be consequences. I didn't even know what she was talking about." She nods in understanding. Then something occurs to him.

"When Stannis arrived, I sent someone down to the village to look for you, they couldn't find you. Nobody had seen you." Her gaze flits away for a second. "I needed you. But you weren't there. Where were you Arya?"

"It was just business. We have a much more serious problem on our hands here at the moment."

"Business?" He persists.

"It's not important, it's been settled. We need to focus."

"Settled, that's what Shireen said too. She told me all about your little adventure." A bluff.

"What? She did? Traitor." She says the last beneath her breath.

"But I'd rather hear it from you."

"We were only trying to help. I knew you'd only take it personally."

"How could I not?"

"Gendry." She grabs his shoulders in her hands. "You were doing so well with your responsibilities. Your clothes." She straightens his collar. "The way you hold yourself, the way you speak." She's ticking the three items off on her fingers. "I was proud of you, I am proud of you." She pecks him on the lips. "I just didn't want to let one little mistake discourage you. It wasn't even your fault really."

"What mistake?" At his blank expression she squints at him.

"Shireen didn't tell you any of this, did she?"

"Not a thing. We didn't even get to properly greet each other before dinner." At first she seems angry. Then she holds up four fingers with a smile. "And you're all devious now; you just tricked me. Well done. That's four things."

"Arya…" He warns.

"It's cute."

"How am I supposed to learn from my mistakes if you hide them from me?"

"Fine. You're right." She sighs. "Remember Evanfall?"

"Evanfall? Never been. Oh… You mean that ass Lord Varon?"

"The very same. Remember how you told him he was banned from doing business with The Storm Land's? Well, it turns out, we need him. Or needed him. Or so it seemed."

"What happened?"

"It's okay, I fixed it."

"How, what did you do?"

"Nothing. I went to officially apologize with the hopes of restoring trade relations, that's all." He's learned enough about politics to read between the lines by now.

"In other words, to beg."

"It never came to that. I couldn't quite stomach it." She sneers.

"You shouldn't have had to. If anyone, it should have been me. My mess, mine to clean up."

"It wouldn't have helped. Turns out he's even more of an ass on his own land."

"I can imagine. Pompous prick."

"And luckily, it all worked out with the farmers. So…"

"So that's why Stannis was so pleased with the finances." That makes much more sense. She knew Stannis would have found fault with him, and she'd covered it up.

"And don't forget dinner. He really enjoyed that salad." She boasts with a chuckle.

"And you got Shireen involved in this?"

"She wanted to help. She loves you, you know. Shireen is actually very capable. You would have been proud of her. She's really coming out of her shell." Family. Who now suspected he was scum.

"Thank you. For doing that."

"Of course. I'm your wife. I'll always have your back, and I'll clean up your messes too. Somehow." She starts biting her nails.

"You're too clever wife." He taps her forehead lightly. "You'll figure it out." He taunts with a compliment. A corner of her mouth lifts at that.

"I don't know. She's very good, more clever than I am by half." He strokes the braided edge of her hair. "She backed me into a corner, I'm rather impressed actually." She admits.

"What do we do?"

"What we are doing. Stay firm. She's particularly determined. She was trying to play me as well. I don't know what her intent was." He strokes the shell of her ear. "Or how long she's been planning this. Or if it was just a sudden whim. It was risky to be sure. She must have been desperate." She seems to be asking him for his opinion.

"I dunno. Maybe she's just fucking mental."

"Mmm. Or in love with you. Or both." She reasons.

"In love with me? Are you joking?" She shrugs.

"Obsessed, perhaps. Well, we're stuck with her now, either way, she's made sure of that."

"No, we're not." He kisses her on the temple. "Nothing's final. I'll tell Stannis the truth. Make him see. And he'll believe me, us, or not. I don't really care anymore." She makes some space between them at that.

"No, you can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Haven't you been listening? It's too late now."

"You can't be serious."

"It's already done. She's done all the damage she can. We have to have a united front. If we go back on our position, it will only make things worse." He takes a step back to look at her fully.

"Our position? How can it be our position if you didn't ask me? And telling the truth would be worse for who?"

"Both of us. Our families, our names. Just leave it."

"I can't believe you're suggesting this."

"I'm trying to…"

"Fix it, yeah, you said. For our _reputation_? Or, this is about the arrangement with Stannis, isn't it? So long as you get the men my uncle promised. You don't really care either way, do you?" She curls her lip in distaste.

"I don't care? That's what you think? Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is for me? How painful? I'm trying to make the best out of a bad situation, your bad situation, and you're trying to make me feel guilty for it."

"Is it mine? All that stuff you came up with in there. You were awful quick. How do I know you didn't arrange this whole thing yourself as a backup?" She gasps. "So sure I would be a failure in front of my uncle? If he deems me unworthy, then I won't be good for anything will I? Bad gamble that."

She's outraged. "You think I would ever, in my worst imaginings, ask for this?" She doesn't wait for a response. "Trick you? I was a little busy making sure we didn't all starve to death. Besides, if I had orchestrated something, I would have been a hell of a lot more discreet about it. No, a crazy dangerous slut, getting up before my friends, your family, the servants, and guards and claiming to be carrying your child. You think I want that? By morning the whole of the Seven Kingdoms will know. This is truly my nightmare."

"Don't you think you're exaggerating just a…"

She pokes him in the chest with her finger.

"And even if you didn't actually fuck her."

"I didn't…" He starts to defend himself.

"She had her hands all over you. It's disgusting."

"I didn't want her to, she just..."

"If you think, for one second I would ever throw serving girls at you, and tell you to have at it, then you are seriously…" He kisses her, and it shuts her up. She doesn't seem to have anymore to say by the time he lets her up for air. Once he can speak, he reassures her.

"For fucksakes, Arya. How could I have possibly? You drive me too crazy to even have the energy for much else. You laugh at me, yell at me, undermine me, and fuck me blind. It's adorable, but it's exhausting. How could I even manage anything with another woman? Let alone another crazy one.".

"Not funny." He sobers, seeing her doubts.

"I don't want anyone else. Have I ever given you any reason to doubt that?" He wipes at all the black ringing her eyes. He likes the possibility that she's jealous, damn him.

"No."

"So don't even question that."

"Everyone else will. And loudly. All they see is a marriage of convenience. They'll assume the worst." He groans.

"Who cares what they think?"

"I do. I don't want them thinking I'm just another idiotic wife played for a fool. Or that you're just another bastard begetting bastards. We can't afford that right now. We have to keep the upper hand."

"Them? Who are them?"

"Them, people, Gendry. They talk."

"So let them. What else is new? As far as my uncle is concerned I am my father. He's just been waiting for proof. Why should I give it to them? How is that right, Arya? How does that solve anything?"

"It's the hand we've been dealt. Whether the child is yours or not, everyone will believe it anyway. You're worried about being like your father? How about a father who won't even recognize his own flesh and blood? Is that the kind of lord, the kind of man, you want people to see?" It's a punch in the stomach.

"It's a lie. I won't put my name to a lie. You can't ask that of me." She shouldn't.

"Would you have me beg? Would that make it easier?" Her questions are reaching a hysterical pitch. "Shall I get on my hands and knees to beg my husband to claim another woman's child? Perhaps the only child either of us will ever have." Back to this again.

"Gah! Arya. Listen to me. You. Don't. Know. That. You're basing everything off some witch's prophecy. You don't even follow Rh'llor."

"He seems real enough. There are Gods beyond counting. It's possible I don't know all of them."

"And the prophecy could mean a lot of things anyway, Arya. You're just jumping to conclusions. Expecting the worst. Like always." She looks annoyed at that.

"It's true. I feel it. It's been months, Gendry."

"Yeah, it's only been a few months. And if could be a few months more. If it's a few months more than that we'll go to a maester or a physic. Someone who knows about these things. Alright?"

"If you like." But she's placating him.

"See, I'm not so stupid, am I? I have a good idea every now and again."

"You're not stupid. But you fail to take consequences seriously. We should always be prepared. Just in case."

"In case of what? It can't get any worse than this."

"It can always get worse, stop being so naïve."

"Stop talking down to me like I'm a child. You think I'll just do whatever you want. Not this time, Arya. A man must do what he thinks is right. And I won't do this. I can't. So stop asking."

"We'll lose our power, our respect, the soldiers... Is that what you want?"

"Families, names, the deal, the men, The North, The Wall." His voice gets higher in mocking as the list goes on. "That's all you ever talk about. On and on and on. Don't you care about anything else? Any other hobbies, interests? It's not me you give a shit about, or our marriage, clearly."

"I've never made a secret about my priorities. You knew that when we married. Don't pretend I wasn't always straightforward about that."

"Oh no. I wouldn't dream of it."

"Look, if we don't act fast and smart, we'll lose. It's as simple as that." He laughs, but it's humorless.

"Lose what? The war is over. What are you even on about? I swear sometimes I don't even…"

"Because Winter is..."

"Coming. Yeah yeah yeah. So you say." He rolls his eyes. "But winter's come and gone already."

"You don't understand. The Wall…"

"Will always be there."

"Southerners." She scoffs. He ignores it.

"In there, the first thing that went through your mind was damage control. Fixing this. Holding your head high. Whether it's true or not. What kind of person reacts like that, Arya?"

"A Stark." Her words are so controlled.

"And a Baratheon. Or does that mean nothing to you?"

"Not nothing. I have responsibilities…"

"They're dead, Arya. All of them, all of it. Gone. And nothing will bring them back." And she slaps him then, hard across the jaw. She's shocked at her actions for a moment, but she recovers quickly.

"Don't you ever speak about them. They are my family, my blood. Even now, even in death. You can never hope to understand what that means. The sacrifices required."

"Don't I? And what am I, Arya? You're _my_ family. No matter what I do for you, no matter how much I love you; you can't seem to let them go."

"Never."

"Why can't you just let yourself be happy? With me."

"I don't know." She's looking away again.

"Is there anything I can say to you at this point to make you see reason?"

"Say you're on my side. That you'll do this. I know better about these things, Gendry. I've had more practice."

"No."

"A compromise then."

"I don't think you know how to compromise." He says bitterly.

"I do. Say yes, and I'll do whatever you want. Anything." She promises.

"Anything?" She'll have her way. He can recognize that much.

"I said so, didn't I?" Anger again. "What do you want?" He needs some leverage.

"I don't know yet." She rolls her eyes. "But, I will ask something of you. And when I do, you must agree." Her eyebrows scrunch in confusion. "No matter what it is, you can't refuse."

She's weighing out his request in front of him.

"You said anything." He reminds her. She doesn't want to; what's more, she doesn't think she should have to. But she wants it over, decided, most of all. If nothing else, he knows his wife.

"Alright, I agree."

"Swear. On your honor as a Stark. It's the only oath I'd believe anyway."

"I swear, on my honor as a Stark." And she's dead serious.

"Settled, then." Nothing's settled. They've agreed, but neither are pleased with the terms.

"I guess so." And they both just stand there uncomfortably.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then." He says, breaking the silence. He leaves first. And for the first time, he doesn't feel like sleeping beside his wife.

He was well and truly drunk. It seemed like the only sane course of action. When his friends found him in the kitchen later, he was already quite intoxicated.

They'd all heard. Arya was right, the news traveled very fast. They tried to cheer him, take his mind off of it; nothing worked. He was in a shit mood, the likes of which none of them had ever seen. He tried to pick a fight with Rik over something or other. He tried to get him to hit him; saying every nasty thing he could think of. He wouldn't bite. None of them took the bait. They all just continued to pity him, but his shouts for them to fuck off and leave him be eventually met with the desired results. They left him to his own devices; to drink in peace and feel sorry for himself.

He had made it through most of a bottle of fine Pentos whiskey, when Ser Davos walked in looking for him.

"Gendry, lad." He calls out, seeing him crouched in a corner.

"Better leave me be, Davos. I'm not much to be around tonight. Ask anyone." Another swig, it burns, but it seems appropriate.

"I can see that for myself. Here, give me that." And he tries to take the bottle from Gendry, but the smith only clutches it tighter and growls. Unperturbed, Davos sits down beside him.

"Rough night?" Gendry lets out a humorless laugh.

"Ya think?" He looks down and sees a paper clutched in Ser Davos' hand. "Is that the bloody contract?"

"Aye." Gendry looks away. "So…"

"It's a lie. A filthy lie."

"Alright Lad, calm down. I had to ask. But I believe you."

"Stannis doesn't."

"He, no. He tends to think the worst in people."

"I thought it was just me."

"Oh no. Everyone. Including himself."

"Well with his fucking conditions, holding us hostage with his demands. I don't much care what he thinks of me anymore."

"Good to hear."

"I thought I was doing good though. I really thought that."

"You were, Lad. You are. Truly. I looked over the ledgers; you did a fine job with those farmers, Gendry. A fine job. Cutting out the middleman so to speak. I never knew you had a mind for business." Davos praises.

"That was Arya. And Shireen. I didn't do anythin'." He whines.

"I see."

"But things were good with Arya. That's what I meant."

"Oh."

"I mean mostly we'd fight. But then we'd fuck and it was… But she doesn't love me the way I love her."

"I think she does, in her way." Gendry chuckles at that. Her way seemed to be lacking something. "No one knows what goes on in a woman's mind."

"Ain't that the truth." He takes another swig. "Have you talked to her?" He questions.

"Aye, I saw her. I went by her room first." Davos scratches his eyebrow with his finger nubs but won't look at him.

"And?"

"And what?"

"And how was she? How did she look?" He prompts.

"Truth?"

"Yes."

"Not well. Pale."

"You're not just saying that?"

"Nah, I wouldn't lie about something like that. She wouldn't want you knowing it besides."

"Good." And he takes another drink. "Why should I be the only miserable one? This was her stupid plan. Never asks my advice about anything. Stark honor, my ass. Thinks I'm useless. But she's too damn stubborn. And now we'll both suffer." He's mumbling, it only makes sense to his own ears.

"Well I'm glad you have perspective on the whole thing." Davos says sarcastically.

"Really, is there another way to see it? 'Cause I thought my whole marriage, my whole life, just went up into flames over the course of a single night."

"Nothing's settled yet, Gendry. This can still play out a number of different ways."

"You mean besides Arya not trusting me? You mean besides having no say? And the whole world thinking- not only that I'm a bastard, but now a real piece of shit who fucks around on his new wife. Just like my dear ol' drunk Da." Davos stands up and hovers over him.

"You can get drunk tonight, you're allowed that. But tomorrow you have to find a way to set things right."

"Right? Right! There's no right anymore, there's no nothing." He sputters.

"It looks like that now, but…" Gendry's belligerent mood is back. He stands up in challenge.

"It's not how it looks, it's how it is." He gestures with such force that he nearly stumbles. "This," he holds up the now nearly empty bottle. "This is it. All that's left. It can't ever be right again, 'cause it's gone. It was all a front anyway." He looks at Davos again, expecting pity. But the man has none. Davos rips the bottle from his fingers before he even registers it. He shakes the bottle, so the backwash sloshes around inside.

"Nothing, eh?" He shakes it again, then throws the bottle to the floor. Gendry is shocked, staring slack-jawed at the shards of wet glass by his feet. "Now it's nothing, Gendry. Make no mistake, things can always get worse. And they surely will if you're in a hurry to make it so." He hands Gendry the contract, patting him awkwardly on the back. "Try to get some rest, Gendry. We'll leave at first light, no doubt."

But he doesn't sleep, he can't. At a little past three in the morning, and a few more minutes to regain his bearings, he sets out.

He doesn't knock, all out of pleasantries and politeness. She definitely looks surprised to see him there, clad only in a long shift; but she quickly covers her shock with a smile and a curtsy.

"My Lord, what a pleasant surprise." Kahlen mocks, looking for all the world glad to see him. Like she hadn't just stabbed him in the spine hours earlier.

"Don't play games." He demands, shutting the door of her modest quarters behind him.

"Never." She swears.

"Then what was that at dinner? You seemed hell-bent on making a scene. On upsetting my wife."

"None of you were taking me seriously. I had to make an impact."

"An impact? You're bloody insane! You lied, in front of everyone. You started a horrible rumor that no matter what, will follow me wherever I go. And all for what?"

"But I didn't lie, My Lord."

"Are you even pregnant?"

"Of course. I'm carrying your child. Want to feel?" She reaches out to grab his hand.

"Stop fucking around. It's just us here."

"Fucking?" She smirks.

"Don't you ever stop?"

She shakes her head.

"And when the child is born? What then?"

"It will look like you, My Lord. The spitting image. I swear it."

"Enough! Enough. See this?" He waves the paper in front of her. "This says your child is claimed. You got what you wanted. You pushed my wife past her breaking point." She takes the paper from his hand, brushing her fingertips along the words; but not reading them.

"What does it say?"

"That the child will be a Baratheon. Raised in Winterfell. Mine and Arya's. You get nothing." She nods, evidently appeased.

"Fair enough."

"Fair? Nothing about this is fair. Are you even listening? You'll get nothing. I will make sure of it."

"That's fine. As long as the child's taken care of."

"It's about your child then is it? A loving mother. Is that supposed to make all this alright?"

"I don't care, really. I'll not have my child named a Storm. Penniless, looked down on. It's hard without a father, you'd know."

"Then tell me who the father is and I can force him to take responsibility. I can do that you know?"

"And if I don't want him?"

"Did he… did he force himself on you?"

"You would think that." She laughs, her brown eyes alight. "No, he didn't force me. I wanted to. And I didn't think he'd marry me, or anything like that. I thought it'd be fun. Something to while away the dull hours. And it was. Days seemed newer, brighter; hours passed faster. Only there was a consequence. There's always a consequence. One I'll have to pay for for the rest of my life."

"Give me his name, I'll make sure he pays."

"And I told you, as I'll tell all others. It's your child, My Lord."

"So you pass it off to me, my family. You're making me pay for your mistakes. Doesn't that bother you at all?"

"Not really." He looks away in disgust. "Would it be so bad, to have an heir of your own? I know The Lady is barren."

"She's not, she just said that to save face."

"She doesn't think so. She takes it very seriously. All those herbs and teas and creams. Choking down those vile elixirs. Applying stinky decoctions. Hasn't helped yet." He hadn't known that.

"Don't talk about my wife."

"I wouldn't dream of it. I underestimated her to be sure, I admit it. But it turned out much better than I imagined."

"Why me?"

"The gold helped, the powerful name, and strong title. But no. No, I chose you because you're a good man, an honest man. You'll do right by the child. I see that."

"Or I'll come to resent it. Knowing what you did to me, how you tricked me. Us."

"You won't. You haven't such resentments within you. A bit, simple really. It's sweet." He thinks he's never hated anyone as much as in this moment.

"Don't misunderstand, My Lord. I also wanted you. It would have been so much easier that way." And she strokes his arm in invitation. "Good, honest, handsome."

"You have no shame." She smirks.

"It's done, isn't it? Why not? Might as well enjoy yourself. Your wife's practically given us permission." That was true. She didn't seem to care much, the damage was done, she'd said. Would Arya even care?

"You ruined my life." He tells her.

"Sorry." She mock puts. "Does that help? Or maybe, something else I can do to make it up to you?" And she slants her lips upon his, sweet and warm. She presses up against him; he can feel every curve through the thin fabric of her shift. It would be bitter, he knows. She's willing regardless. She seemed to want him for himself, and not his hard-won title. More than he could say for his strategist wife. If he squints hard enough, his hands on her ass, he can pretend.

But just as soon he breaks away. Bile flavor burning in his mouth.

"I didn't feel anything." He whispers, sour breath against her face. She registers surprise on her round face. He shoves her away and stumbles out into the hall.

A/N: Wow, this took me so many rewrites. I really wanted to get the fight just right, hope I succeeded. It couldn't be a regular- she doesn't believe him thing. Come on, Arya's too smart to fall for that. But she can be so single-minded, too driven. I think she is a little too stuck in the past. I'm glad Gendry's calling her on it. She's logical, or thinks she is, to a fault; he's emotional and does things with his whole heart. Review Please!

Up Next- An icy trip up North. I wonder what Gendry's request will be. Whatever it is, Arya has to do it. She swore.

Side Note: I don't know when the next chapter will be, I really want to fix some of the older chapters, continuity errors, repetitive babble, contradictions, and boring stuff. I tend to write all out of order, so the chapter framework makes such things inevitable. All editing suggestions would be greatly appreciated.


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